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July, 1900, to December, 1900 

f^ru"*nL" fc Original from 


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Qftri Illustrated JffontMy 



Vol. XX. 


Xottton : 

GEORGE NEWNES, LTD., 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, & 12, SOUTHAMPTON STREET, 



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Original from 

The Strand Magazine. 

Vol xx. 

JULY> 1900, 

No. 115. 

Illustrated Interviews. 


By Rudolph de Cordova, 

and, indeed 
all inspired work. 
It is net with 
him so much the 
theme as the way 
in which it is 
presented which 
gives the peculiar 
impression to his 
art, whatever the 
medium ; for, us 
everyone knows, 
Mr Boughton is 
as exceptional a 
worker in pastel 
as he is in oil 

" That is the 
most comfortable 
chair," said Mr. 
Boughton, indi- 
cating it, when he 
had received me 
in his beautiful 
studio the day I 
called on him for 
the purpose of 
this interview. 

11 Y o u had 
better have it," I 
replied, with a 

His smile an- 
swered mine as 
he sat down. 
11 It's just the 
chair for this 
operation, and 
you are just like 
a photographer 
who puts two cold 

Vol. x-.-1 

HE painter of Hope— I had 
almost written poet— for there 
is in all Mr, Bough ton's work 
that subtle suggestion of emo- 
tional aspiration which is the 
hall-mark of all inspired poetry, 

things behind one's ears and says, 'Please 
look pleasant/" 

I shivered at the suggestion, and drew 
closer to the fire. There was a pause while 
I warmed my fingers, and Mr + lioughton got 
into a reminiscent mood. 

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Frwn 4 Photo, Ay ff*ofifw Xewna, Ltd. 

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41 1 am here for yuu to talk/' I said; 
"please begin/" 

11 I began neat Norwich," said Mr. Bough- 
ton, with another smile, vi hut I remember 
nothing of my life there, for I was only two 
when I was taken to America with my people, 
who went with 'bag and baggage, s*;ri[> and 
scrippage.' Not only my own folk, but a 
number of others we knew went too, so it 
was almost like the pilgrimage of the early 
settlers of New England. When I was quite 
a little chap I had a serious accident, and 
the top of my head was nearly knocked off. 
I was not allowed to do anything, and, to 
amuse me, one of my elder brothers used to 

decorated in a similar manner, I decorated 
them all The master, I regret to say, had 
no soul for art, for when he saw them he asked 
at once who had done them. The boys with 
one accord shouted ' Boughton J ; there was 
nothing mean about them. They had the 
pictures, and I had the thrashings resulting 
from them — five thrashings. The result was 
that I fainted- The master was frightened 
and sent at once for my eldest brother. My 
brother came, and when he found out what 
had happened he said to the master, 'Now 
let us see what you used on him/ and to the 
delight of the boys he proceeded to thrash 
him with the weapon he had used on me. 

Fnm t&A Pifiture M till: edict ok will cam the testy. IQ> If. Ito-uvhhm, R.A. 

(Knickerbocker History of New York*) 
Smalt variation of hrge picture id Corcoran Gallery of Washing ion, — By permission* 

take me on his knee and teach me how to 
draw elephants. Elephants, sailors, and wild 
Indians were my passion in those days, 
and I used to copy them so that I could 
draw them pretty well and not childishly 
when I was only five. When I went to 
school, the first thing I did was to draw 
Indians and things on my slate, and on the 
slates of my admiring fallow-pupils. They 
were determined that my art efforts should 
not perish beneath the effacing sponge, 
so they cut them in with a knifa. The 
result was that, as every boy wanted his slate 

by Google 

" I need hardly say that after that episode 
I ceased attending school — that school* 

" At the next place I curbed my ardour in 
the matter of carving, but I used to draw 
every mortal thing that came under my notice. 
One day a kindly relative gave me a silver 
half dollar (two shillings). It seemed an 
awful lot of money to me, for I had never 
had more than a few coppers, and what I 
was to do with such a fortune puzzled me* 
* Buy something useful ,' said a friend. ' I 
should get a book if I were you/ 'The very 
thing,' I thought; another advised a history 

Original from 



From the /'id Eire bjf ff. /i. /toNj^foi?, R, /J. 

[By permission- 

book, I took my little sister with me, and 
walked into a bookseller's. * We want a 
history/ we said. 

" t History of what ? ' asked the shopman. 

" That had never occurred to us. 

" ( History of England ? ' said the man. 

u Thinking well of the idea, we asked, 
'How much?' 

"'Fifteen dollars/ he replied. The pro- 
prietor came up at this juncture, and think- 
ing that my eight or nine years did not look 
like fifteen dollars 1 worth of history, asked 
how much money I had, When I told him, 
he suggested a natural history— ten cents— 
and produced the hook* 'This — why this is 
a menagerie/ I said when I opened it and 
saw the pictures, hut I took it, because I 

by \j* 




knew I should be able to use it for 
drawing purposes. Years afterwards I used 
to go to that same shop to buy drawing 
materials, and one day I saw a copy of the 
Art Journal^ the price of which was then 
fifty cents, I saved up my pennies and 
bought copies at a time when only people 
who were well-to-do could afford the Art 

" Did it influence you then ?" 

" Indeed, it did. It was at its best at that 
time, and it was publishing good things by 
Mulready, Turner, Constable, and Collins, 
and men of that stamp. It was the first real 
art publication I ever saw. 

4i Once again I had an accident, and I was 
not allowed to do anything. The best 

Original from 


surgeon in the town in which we lived was 
called in to see me, and when I was getting 
better he said I must not be excited in any 
way, and must not even read. * May he 
draw ? ' asked one of my sisters. l Yes/ said 
the doctor ; * can he draw ? ' And when my 
sister said I could he asked to see some of 
my work. My drawing-book was given to 
him. I had been to the theatre just before 
and had seen * Black-Eyed Susan,' and 
drawn all the characters from memory. The 
surgeon, who was an enthusiastic art amateur, 
was delighted with the promise of the work, 
and took an interest in me from that day. 
He used to come for me to go drives with 
him on his rounds, and it was he who awoke 
the delight which exists in me for landscape 
and colour. He used to take me to the 
houses of his patients who had paintings, and 
they allowed me to see and study them, so 
that I really got a magnificent start." 

44 At that time I take it you had not 
formulated any idea of art as a career ? " I 

" No ; on the contrary. When the ques- 
tion arose what I should be, whether I should 
be educated on classical or commercial lines, 
I selected the latter, and went to a com- 
mercial college for two or three years. The 
master was the kindest old man I had ever 
met in my life. He was interested in art, 
and he told my brother, for my parents were 
dead at the time, that I ought not to be 
allowed to waste my life in commerce. But, 
I confess, I never did waste any gifts, but 
some futile time in business. 

" Just about this time two or three good 
landscape artists and one portrait painter 
were in the town, and my doctor friend got 
them interested in me. I went sketching 
landscapes with the former, and the por- 
trait painter helped me and gave me hints, 
and was kindness itself. Then a curious 
thing happened, 1 was still at school, and 
I did not get much pocket-money. One 
day I bought a comic illustrated paper from 
New York. It invited paid contributions 
in art and humorous literature. I made a 
sketch and wrote a joke to go with it, and a 
friend, who was apprenticed to an engraver, 
got me a block. I drew my sketch on it, 
he engraved it, and we sent it to New York, 
with a letter asking if it would do. * Yes/ 
replied the editor ; 4 it's splendid— the very 
thing I want.' We got six dollars for it, 
which meant three dollars each, and that was 
big pocket-money, I can tell you. I did not 
tell my brother, for he was inclined to be 
pious ; but I assured him that it was all 

by Google 

right, an 1 that the money had come from 
work. We worked this oracle for two years, 
and I did sometimes two drawings a week ; 
while, in addition, I used to write little 
things for the papers, for which they also 
paid. One fine day I went into a shop to 
buy some fishing-tackle. There I saw what 
appeared to me then to be some curious- 
looking things in a case, and I asked what 
they were. 

" * Oil-colours in tubes,' said the shopman. 

"That settled me. I didn't buy any 
fishing-tackle, but I bought what colours I 
could with my available cash and went tick 
for more, as well as for oil and millboards. 
Then I started off home and got an Art 
Journal on the way. In it there was a 
reproduction of the * Market Cart,' by Gains- 
borough, which is now in the National 
Gallery. I copied it in oils, and two or 
three more pictures, and took them to the 
old boy at the shop, and showed him what I 
had done with his oil-colours." 

« And he ?" 

"He gave me unlimited credit," replied 
Mr. Boughton. "One day when I called he 
had a lovely big canvas in the shop for a 
painter with a big reputation, who had come 
to the town to do some work for a mil- 
lionaire who lived there. * Who's going to 
take that canvas up ? ' I asked. And when 
I was told it was waiting for the boy to come 
in for it, I said, * Let me take it.' I was 
seventeen at the time. I took off my coat, 
shouldered the canvas, and went off with it. 
The painter, who was a fine-looking man, 
was in his shirt-sleeves too, and when I took 
it into his room he said, * Put it down there.' 
There was a beautiful landscape, in a splendid 
frame, leaning against the easel at the time, 
and I went down on my hands and knees 
in order to get a better view of it. * You're 
fond of pictures?' queried the painter. 

" * Yes, very,' I replied, and my eyes were 
widely opened, taking it all in. 

" * Do you see anything you'd like to sug- 
gest ? ' he asked, pleasantly. 

" * The cows are not quite up to the rest, 
are they ? ' I asked, with the effrontery of 

" ' You're quite right ; cows are not my 
strong point,' he said. 

" Then I awoke to the enormity of my 
boldness, and I dashed out of the room. 
Four or five days after the old man at the 
shop had a new oil sketch of mine. The 
painter went in and saw it, and it resulted in 
his asking me to go and see him, and for two 
or three weeks he took me under his wing." 

Original from 


Mr. Bo ugh to Li 
stirred the fire 

" And then ? ;J 

"I had a little 
money left to me 
just then, and the 
dream of my life 
was to go to 

" One morning 
I went out for a 
walk and met a 
dear old friend 
for whom I had 
painted some pic- 
tures at about ^4 
each, We got 
talking, and with- 
out any leading 
up he said to me, 
1 Have you ever 
thought of going 
to Europe ? i 

"*I should 
think I have/ I 

" '-How much 
do you think it 
would cost you to 
go for a year ? ' 

"I replied I 
thought I could 
do it for ^200, 
or I might possi- 
bly manage it for 

"He asked me 
if I had any 

money towards 
the scheme, and I 
said I had about 

"'Well, you 
can go to Europe 
whenever you 
want to,* he said ; 
* I will advance 
the rest of the 
money, and you 
can paint me 

three or four pictures when you come 
back/ I had gone out without the remotest 
idea of going to Europe, and I returned 
home and announced my intention to my 
astonished sisters, who would not believe it. 
My brother didn't want me to go either, and 
offered me a partnership in his business if I 
would stay, but when he saw that I was resolute 

(Ac Purtur bf & H. ho*ffkto*i R.A. 

[By permission, 

by V^ 



he did the brotherly thing and put his hand 
into his pocket and added to my letter of 
credit I came to England and stayed in 
Tendon for three or Tour weeks, went to 
Scotland and Ireland) and returned to London 
and went to Norfolk, but nobody I saw knew 
me. The only thing I did was to paint out 
of doors and see pictures, and I took back 

Original from 




studies for the work I was to do for my 

" How long did you stay ? " 

"Six or eight months. I made inquiries 
about getting into the Royal Academy School, 
but there were so many preliminaries to be 
gone through then that I gave up that idea, 
especially as I wanted to be a landscape 
painter, and this I did later on. 

" Almost as soon as I got back I painted 
' A Wayfarer,' an old man at the side of a 
road. I offered it for jQ$, but nobody 
wanted it at that price. A friend said to me, 
' Send it to the New York Art Union.' The 
question of price arose, and he said, 'Ask 
^10 for it, for they are sure to beat you 
down.' Another friend said, 'They won't 
think anything of you unless you ask ^20 
for it' I sent the picture, and put ^20 on 
it. In a little while there came a letter, 
taking the picture at my price, and they sent 
the money at the same time, thinking it 
might be of use to me. Out of gratitude I 
spent £2 in tickets, and I drew a picture, 
and a very good one too. Somebody asked 
me if I would sell it, and what I would take 
for it. I said, ' An offer,' and he offered ^15 
and got it, which was about its value, and I 
blessed the Art Union for a Mascot. 

" The next step in my life was a rather 
curious one. It was the depth of winter, and 
it struck me that I had never seen a winter 
landscape painted just as I saw it. I went 
into a field and worked until I was so cold 
that I was on the point of giving up. Then 
the thought came to me, € Stick to it— that is 
the only way pictures are ever done.' I stuck 
to it, and to my delight it did look different 
to the ordinary winter landscape. I sent 
it to the New York National Academy 
of Design. It was the first thing I 
offered them. It was called ' Winter 
Twilight.' In a little while I got a letter, 
saying it was accepted and hung. Then I 
began to think of going to New York to try 
my luck. I went. A friend hired a studio 
for me, and I sold or gave away everything 
I had and went to New York, with nothing 
but the clothes I stood up in, my sketching 
easel, seat, and paint-box. As soon as I 
arrived I met a friend, who said to me, 
1 You're in luck : your picture has been 
sold to R. L. Stuart, the great sugar manu- 
facturer' (the Tate of the United States). 
That picture had been skied, but the Presi- 
dent, Mr. Durand, saw it, and said, 'That is 
too good a thing to be put up there.' He 
always sent six or eight pictures, in order that 
he might have one or more removed in just 

by Google 

such cases; and, indicating a frame of his of 
about the same size, he said to the hangers, 
' Suppose you put that down here on the 
line.' He was a friend of Mr. Stuart, who 
had asked him to buy anything by any 
young man which struck him, and it was just 
a proof of my good luck." 

" Your good painting," I interrupted. 

" There was perhaps a little of that in it, I 
won't deny," replied Mr. Boughton. "It 
certainly was different from anything else, for 
they were not in the habit of really painting 
in the open air at that time. 

" The next incident of my New York 
life was also curious. When I arrived 
one well-known painter had just died in 
straitened circumstances, and it struck his 
artist friends that they would each add a 
picture to an exhibition which was to be 
held for the benefit of his widow. I was 
asked if I would do something. I had an 
idea, and I began on it at once. The lines 
I had chosen as the subject of the picture — 
— 'The Haunted Lake' (supposed to be 
haunted by the spirit of an Indian girl) — 
were : — 

When all night long, by her firefly lamp, 
She paddles her white canoe. * 

" It was a moonlight swamp lighted by a 
greenish light. I really painted it because I 
saw a frame which I thought I should like to 
fill. The leading landscape painter of New 
York at that time, Mr. F. E. Church, who 
had a studio in the same building, came in 
one day to see me, and the picture was just 
in his vein. ' For whom are you doing 
that?' he asked. 'For the Ranney fund,' I 

"' Nonsense,' he said; 'you must not 
give that. Why, we are only doing sketches. 
I can get you jQ 2 °y or perhaps even ^40, 
for it' 

'"Then whoever wants it can pay that for 
it to the Ranney fund. I said I would give 
this, and I'm going to.' I was obstinate, and 
nothing could alter my determination. He 
bullied me and called me pig-headed, and 
told the incident to some of his millionaire 
cronies. The Press noticed it among the 
first pictures in the exhibition, and when the 
time came for it to be sold two men got 
bidding for it, and it was bought by Mr. 
August Belmont for several hundred dollars. 

" That was the start. The incident got talked 
about, and commissions came in fluently to 
do little things of a mysterious character. 
I painted 'The Witching Time of Night' 
for Mr. Walters, of Baltimore, among others, 
and then it occurred to me that I could go 

Original from 


on repeating this 
sort of thing in- 
definitely with- 
out any advan- 
tage ta myself 
artistically* I 
had made some 
money and I 
had more coin- 
ing in j so I 
decided to go 
to Paris in order 
to study with 
Couture. It was 
late in the sum- 
mer, and I had 
two letters of 
introduction to 
Mr. Edward 
May, Couture's 
chief pupil, one 
of the few pri- 
vate ones he 
ever had. With 
him I had a 
curious experi- 
ence. I called 
on him one 
morning and he 
opened the door 
himself, I was 
the typical 
callow art stu- 
dent, and he 
was a splendid 
looking fellow 
who 1 o o k e d 
more like a 
Field - Marshal 
than an artist. 
1 I have brought 
a letter from 
Mr. Wright,' I 
said (he was the 
man who bought 
Rosa Bonheur's 
1 Horse Fair'). 

4i ' Have you 
brought any 
money from hi in 
for me?' he 
said, angrily. 

"'No,! l re ~ 
plied, simply; 
Mie merely sent 
this letter/ 

" May stormed 
for a while, and 
then I took the 

Vol. xx. -2. 




second letter from my pocket, and said, 
'As you don't seem to care about thatj here 
is another.' It was from a man who was no 
more in his good books. 'He came here 
once with a letter of introduction, and now 
he is pestering me with more letters of 
introduction/ said May, still more angry, 

t£ ' I didn't ask for these letters,* I said; ' I 
was asked to present them. I have dune so, 
and when I go back I can say I have seen 
you/ and 1 turned on my heels* 

"In a moment May had recovered from his 
unreasonable anger, and cried out: * Here, 
come back, don't go like that ; the fact of 

almost like a partner with my new wealth), 
and as I have just come from America I 
am flush.' At lunch he asked where I 
thought of studying, and I told him. 

Lt ' You can't study with Couture,' he said; 
*he is in the country, and you'd better go 
there too, for no one is in Paris at this time 
of the year/ 

'"Then a bright idea occurred to mc* *If, 
pending the arrival of jour remittance, four 
or five hundred francs are of any use to you, 
I will let you have them, with pleasure. * 

"*Yoo angel, 3 cried May; 'four or five 
hundred francs will be my salvation. 1 Then 

Frvm thi Picture &b3 


(Owned by Sir Wm. H> Will*, Hart.-- Ely permission.) 

[fj. II. itottphton^ R,A* 

the matter is, I was expecting a model who 
is sitting for the hands in a picture I am 
doing, and he hasn't come, and now the 
whole of my day is wasted/ 

"*Gh, if that is all, I will sit for your 
hands/ I said, 'if they'll do for you,' and I 
held them up for his inspection. 

Mi Do? They're the very thing- They're 
better than the model's ; just the long, slim 
fingers I want for my Priest.' So in I went, 
and I sat the whole morning for the hands 
and also for ihe head. When it came time 
for drjcuwr he said, * I cant ask you to 
lunch, as I really am working on tick myself 
at the restaurant, for 1 haven't any money. ' 

'Then, lunch with me, 1 I said; *I have 
a letter of credit on the Rothschilds (1 felt 


he went on to say that there was a studio 
next door to his which I could use. * 1 will 
put you in there, 1 he said, 'and give you the 
same instruction that Couture would, and I 
will take you from the beginning.' 

"The next morning I was installed, and he 
set me drawing from the cast. I did it at 
once, as it was easy enough. I had been a 
student in the Academy of New York. 

" 'Yes, you can draw pretty well, 1 he said ; 
tli en he gave me a drawing from life to 
copy, and I did it right off, for I work 
very rapidly* Then I had a study in 
colour from the nude figure to copy, and 
I did that bang off, for it was as simple as 
saying ' Bon jour' ; anyone could do it. All 
this took lesDrhahnal fresfci, and then I got 





to the living model, working all the time 
on Couture 's principle. At last one day 
May said to me : 'The rest is with yourself. 
You draw well enough now ; you never will 
be a perfect draughtsman, nor will anyone 
else, but you must work alone for the future.' 

(i All that good luck came because I wasn't 
offended with his hrusqueness* He was the 
making of me in Paris." 

" How long were you there?" 

" Altogether about eighteen months. Then 
I went to ficouen with Edouard Frere, a 
pupil of Paul Delaroehe, who advised, 
criticised, and suggested, but wouldn't take a 
sixpenny- piece in payment for his work. 
He had several other students working with 
him, and we learnt 
from one another, 
F re re's method was 
to tell you general 
principles, which 
would apply to any- 
thing and every- 
thing, instead of 
fads of his own." 

(i This was about 
the time that du 
Maurier was in 
Paris, was it not?" 
I asked. 

a No, it was just 
after du Maurier 
left, so that the 
Bohemian ism of 
Paris which I saw 
was not that de- 
picted in * Trilby.' 
Nor was I en- 
tranced with much 
of the Bohemian- 
ism that I saw 
there. There is a 
great deal of 
glamour about it, 
but the glamour 
consists chiefly in 
the after- talking 
of it rcither than 
the living of it. 
It consisted for 
the most part in 
spending all one's 
money as soon as 
one got it, without 
any thought for the 
morrow. They 
were not good 
specimens of 
Bohemians 1 met, 

from this point of view. They were all 
poor enough, goodness knows ! but they all 
had a taste for work and sobriety. It 
was the time of the American War, and I 
was in with the American set, and at times 
it was pretty bad rations^ I can tell you. We 
used to get our meals at a Cremerie, and the 
old lady used to let us come cheap on con- 
dition that we came every day. Generally 
one or two men turned up with us who had 
nowhere to go for their dinner, and they fed 
on the co-operative plan, One man would go 
without his soup, another without his entree, 
a third without his meat, a fourth would con- 
tribute his cheese, a fifth a bunch of grapes, 
and in that way the odd man would get his 

Prom tht Pitfare fyy] 


(Owmed by H. 

J. Walters, of EJ llufcuteU^^V* 1 ™ 5 *™') 




dinner Tor nothing. The old lady used to wink 
at it, and sometimes donate a dish of her 
own with her eyes full of tears of sympathy. 
The common people of France are very nice 
if they like you; but if they don't like 
you, you'd better be in the infernal regions. 

Ecouen, and I took up my quarters in a 
cottage belonging to an old blind woman, 
about whom I wrote a story in Harper's 
Magazine. She was a wonderful character." 

Mr. Boughtoivs mention of Harpers gave 
me the opening I wanted 

From tht FiH urt by] 


(Owned by Charles Stewart Smith, New York.— By permission*) 

[Q. IL JfoupAfen. R>A< 

When I got to Paris it was Couture and 
Delacroix. They were the fashion, as much 
as it is the fashion among certain sets to 
turn up one's trousers in Piccadilly on a fine 
day and carry a stick upside down. There 
was only talk of those two and of nobody 
else. An American friend said to me, - Do 
you believe in following slavishly what every- 
one else is doing? ' I didn't ; so we went to 

Digitized by VjOOQIC 

"When did you first take to writing 
stories? >n I asked. 

H Before I began painting seriously, and 
when I was quite a small boy, I sent a story 
to one of the big Boston papers; it printed 
it t but omitted to send me any coin in 
exchange. As far as Harpers were con- 
cerned, they asked me to do a drawing. I 
did a scene from the life of one of the 




Governors of New York, and as it needed 
some explanation in writing, I supplied it. 
Their representative over here then asked 
me to write a short story, and as I had some 
ideas for one I jumped at it. After that, as 
you know, came 'The Rambles in Holland,' 
which I never intended to do at all, for 
Mr. M. D. Conway was to have accompanied 
Mr. Abbey and me, and have written the 
account of it. When he didn't turn up 
Abbey and I agreed that we'd do the articles 
together. I was prevailed upon, however, to 
write the first one alone, and I did, just to see 
how it would do. We sent it to the publishers, 
and they said, ' Spin this out,' so I took the 
same theme and spun it out into three or 
four papers. It was great fun in Holland. 
I used to sketch and write as I went along. 
One morning I went out for a walk, and to 
my disgust when a long way from the hotel I 
found that I had no sketch-book. I went to 
a tallow-chandler's and got the only thing 
in the shape of a book they had, one for 
keeping accounts, and I found it one of the 
loveliest things to draw on, for the perpen- 
dicular lines were especially useful when it 
came to the architecture. It always strikes 
me as an interesting thing in connection with 
that visit to Holland that, after I took to 
painting the short cape with the s^md-up 
collar, which is called the Medici cape, 
probably because it is not, its possibilities 
may have so appealed to the milliners that 
they made it fashionable in England. 

" After the * Rambles' came three or four 
more short stories for Harper's and two for 
the Pall Mall Magazine" 

" And there are more stories still ? " I 

" Yes ; whenever I get an idea I set it 
down, simply to prevent it bothering me. 
I sometimes write in my sketch-books, some- 
times in penny account-books, and I work 
anywhere and everywhere ; but I very rarely 
sit down to write, and very seldom write at 

Then we got to talking of other things, 
and incidentally the question of photography 
in its relation to art came up. "Do you 
believe in photography as an aid to the 
artist ? " I asked. 

"If he hasn't got an eye and doesn't want 
to take trouble or time over his work, or if 
he doesn't get any fun out of sketching, 
then, perhaps, photography is of some use. 
But if it is great fun to take your pencil and 
go into your work, as it is to rue, you get a 
quality which you cannot possibly obtain 
with a Kodak, a quality which I may call 

artistry. To me, individually, sketching is 
like sport, and I doubt if a sportsman would 
have much fun in getting a man to do his 
shooting or fishing for him. I did once buy 
a beautiful Kodak, but I never used it and I 
gave it away. I could not give up the use 
of my pencil, for by training one's observa- 
tion one can get an effect with a line which 
no artificial aid could possibly produce. 
Besides, one's memory is stimulated, and I 
can remember in even unimportant sketches 
every bit of colour that the original picture 

" How do you set to work with your 
pictures ? " I asked. 

"Oh, that is impossible to say. The idea 
comes, you don't know how, and you don't 
know whence. It is there, and if you are 
wise you take it. Of course, I make studies, 
but my great method is to have no method 
except to keep on working. I have never 
begun two pictures in the same way in my 
life, so I don't think I shall ever get into a 
groove. With me, things grow so that they 
often finish quite differently from the way 
they were begun, and that is one of the great 
charms of the whole thing, for there is in it 
an element of surprise even to one's self. I 
certainly cannot set out knowing exactly what 
I am going to get, as I would if I were a 
bootmaker going to make a pair of boots." 

From his own work the talk drifted to the 
work of other men and the men themselves. 
With regard to Millais, Mr. Bough ton was 
peculiarly enthusiastic. 

" I consider his was one of the greatest 
characters I have ever met. Millais's kind- 
ness and simplicity were marvellous, and not 
the least of his personal charms was that you 
could always depend on him. One night at 
the club du Maurier was speaking about 
different men's advice, and he said, ' If I 
had a difficulty with a piece of work and 
wanted advice about it I wouldn't go to 
Ruskin if he lived next door, but I'd rather 
take the most expensive cab and go off to 
Millais and Leighton, even if they were miles 
off.' That is typical of the painter's view of 
Millais, Leighton, and Ruskin. 

" When I first met Millais he said some 
nice things about some birch trees which 
appeared in the picture I had just exhibited. 
He asked me to go and see him, as he was 
also painting some birch trees. When I got 
to the corner of the street in which he lived 
I saw a most gorgeous equipage at the door ; 
'gorgeous equipage' but faintly describes 
the sort of thing it. was; I couldn't demean 
it by calling it a carriage or a vehicle. Millais 



' w 


Fr&m the Picture by O. H. Jiouphlcm, R.A. 

l»Jr" per 

came out dressed for walking and spoke to 
someone in the carriage, and, as if replying 
to a question, shook Ins head. This little 
pantomime went on for a couple of minutes, 
and then the carriage drove off and Millais 
started for his walk, 

" ' I really was going to call on you/ I said, 
when we met ; l but as you are going out I 
will come another day.' Again Millais shook 
his head. 'Wait till that blessed thing gets 
round the corner, 1 he said, with a smile ; 
'what do they know about half- finished 

pictures? I want you to see my work, 1 
Then we went back and we talked for half an 
hour of the picture, which was afterwards 
known as * Winter Fuel.* 

" He was a great lover and admirer of 
children, and loved not only to talk of them, 
but to them. He used to say, ( People think 
lightly of men who devote themselves to 
painting children, but a man who can paint 
a baby can do anything, children are so 
delicate and so subtle in every way. 1 



you sent for him. If you were in a bother 
about your work he'd come in with his 
beautiful great presence, and say, after look- 
ing at it, " Let's see ! Oh, I'll tell you what is 
the trouble : give me a piece of chalk, or a 
pencil, or something,' and then he'd make 
the most beautiful drawing, correcting the 
action of a limb, or whatever else was wrong. 
I remember once I was painting the portrait 
of a little girl, and I couldn't get it like her. 
My wife was out shopping, and Millais met 
her and began talking to her. He asked 
after me, and my wife told him that I was 
worried about the picture, which I couldn't 
get right. Til go up and see him,' said 

"'Will you?' said my wife; 'that is the 
very thing of all others he'd like.' 

" ' Is he at home now ? Do you think 
he'd see me ? ' asked Millais. 

" ' Of course he will/ Mrs. Boughton 

" He came ; he looked at the picture. 
'Oh, I know that girl/ he said. 'It's her 
mouth you've got wrong ; give me a bit of 
pencil. This is the way her mouth goes/ 
and, as he said the words, he drew on a 
piece of paper the correct lines. 'That's 
the only thing wrong with it. Put that right, 
and you won't have any more trouble with 
it.' He was exactly like a doctor in his 
manner, and most soothing. The great thing 
about him which always impressed you was 
his clean mind and his sense of healthful- 
ness. He was always like a healthy English 
squire who had lived all his life out of 

For Browning, whom he knew well, Mr. 
Boughton has also a great admiration. 
" Browning had the most marvellous memory 
I ever knew," he said, as we talked of 
him, "and could quote Milton, Shakespeare, 
Spenser, and a host of other poets by the 
page together. If one wanted a quotation 
for a picture, one had only to go to him, and 
he would be able to give the necessary lines 
without a reference to any book, and he'd 
reel them off letter-perfect. I remember 
once, though, a funny failure of his memory 
— the funnier because it was in one of his 
own poems. When the phonograph was first 
brought over to London it was being shown 
at the house of an artist, and we were all 
asked to speak something into the receiver. 
Browning modestly declined for a time, but 
we egged him on, and at last someone said, 
'Quote some lines from one of your own 

by Google 

" ' I know those least of all/ he replied, 
with a smile, and eventually he said he 
thought he knew ' How they brought the 
good news from Aix to Ghent' better than 
he knew anything else. He began splen- 
didly :— ' 

We sprang to the saddle, and Joris and he ; 

I galloped, Dirk galloped, we galloped all three ; 

We — we — we ; we — we — we \ 

" ' Upon my word, I've forgotten my own 
verses/ he exclaimed, and stopped there. 
Somebody prompted him ; he took up the 
thread again, but he couldn't get on any 

" He apologized, but the owner of the 
phonograph declared that the cylinder was 
more valuable to him on account of the 
breakdown than if the poet had recited it 
right through. 

" One night Wilkie Collins, William Black, 
Millais, Browning, and I were dining all 
together at the Reform Club. Browning 
began telling a story from an old Florentine 
poem. It took him between twenty minutes 
and half an hour, and we sat open-mouthed, 
like children, listening to the wonderful 
rhythm of the words and entranced by the 
marvellous power of the speaker. It was all 
impromptu, but some time afterwards Black 
referring to it said, ' Do you know, that 
might have been taken down verbatim, and 
it would have stood as splendid literature 
without a single alteration of a word ! ' 

" But there was another side to Browning, 
which came out at the same dinner. We 
were talking about the disappearance of the 
commercial or advertising poet whose verses 
were used to proclaim the superiority of his 
employers' wares. ' How funny those were/ 
said Browning, and he quoted a most absurd 
verse in laudation of Somebody's Trousers, 
as glibly as if he were the author. We were 
even more surprised than ever. Millais said, 
4 How on earth can you remember such 
beastly things ? ' 

" * Because I don't forget them/ replied 
Browning. i You know we go through a 
wood and gather burrs and thousands of 
dead leaves and all kinds of rubbish, and 
find them sticking to our clothes, but when 
we come to look we find we have lost our 
watch !'" 

Mr. Boughton was in a reminiscent mood, 
but the hands of the clock pointed ominously 
to the hour of an appointment, and the 
exigencies of space compel me to bring the 
records of a most interesting chat to a "most 
lame and impotent conclusion." 

Original from 

k'agab. nds. 

By Basil Marnan. 


ITHOUT a doubt they were 
vagabonds* It was writ large 
in their attire, their careless 
aspect of disreputableness, 
their bland enjoyment of sleep 
in the shelter of a stranger's 
gate. Vet Major Brand, of the Cape Frontier 
Corps, when his horse shied at them in 
the ghostly shadow of moonbeams and the 
cross-bars of the yatc, gave ;1 & ls P l ' iat ' )e ' 
tokened anything but disapproval In fact, 
it suggested some shadow — a starlit shadow, 
perhaps -of comforting fellowship, 

Major Brand as he rode homeward was 
thinking of a son— of a son snatched ruth- 
lessly from him when but three months old. 
In a way too he was resenting the destiny 
that denied him any further child, and 
though he was a 
fervent Catholic, 
almost alone as such 
in a land of hypo- 
critical egoism, he felt 
that the rod was being 
pressed too keenly to 
his lips* He adored 
his wife, and she — 
well t she was an Irish 
girl in love with her 
husband. It might 
be admitted then that 
she was not dilatory in 
returning his affec- 
tion, A little woman, 
svelte like all Colo- 
nials, raven - haired, 
with black arched 
brows, with scarlet 
child -lips and eyes 
grey as the sea T she 
had a winsome, gentle, 
somewhat grave man- 
ner that bespoke love 
of all living things, 
and attracted especi- 
ally the love and con- 
fidence of little chil- 
dren — a feature which 
rendered her hus- 
bands longing for a 
son almost bitter in 
its passion. 

Lean, somewhat 
lanky for all the 
squareness of his 

shoulders, John Brand, with his close- 
cropped iron-grey hair, his stubby grey 
moustaches, his broad nose, rugged chin, and 
wide blue eyes, presented an almost heroic 
type of a frontier yeoman-farmer. As he 
rode in through the gate of his compound, 
this particular night of April, 1895, his 
thoughts had been, as I have indicated, 
somewhat bitter. His cattle, his homestead, 
his increasing crops —what use were they 
without a child to work them for? His 
mood seemed well answered as a low, 
snarling growl greeted the sudden jibbing of 
his horse. He looked down and rested 
motionless, his hand gripping hard on the 
quivering curb. 

There, coiled up in the corner of the gate, 
were two forms, a child and a yellow clog ! 
Tattered, torn, veldt-stained, thorn-searched, 

by Google 





the twain, even jn the dim starlit shadows, 
were indubitably vagabonds. Yet, in the 
child's upturned, tranquil, dreaming face 
there was something that drew a sharp 
breath from John Brand and made him leap 
swiftly from the saddle. The yellow dog 
growled menacingly as he approached, show- 
ing a flash of keen white fangs. Yet some 
instinct of the invader's kindliness withheld 
him, and, though somewhat grudgingly, he 
permitted the Major to lift the sleeping child 
into his arms. And when John Brand 
mounted on his horse bearing on his breast 
the sleepy, nodding, golden-haired head, the 
dog followed his course, whimpering a little, 
ever glancing upwards, yet evidently half- 
contented. So the Vagabonds came to 
Greendip Farm. 

Beneath the feverish excitement of Katie 
Brand's wonder and surmise the boy awoke. 
His eyes, almost black for all their blue glint, 
looked squarely into her face. The child- 
lips quivered manfully. He could not be 
more than five, thought Katie Brand, as she 
hugged him suddenly, passionately, to her 
breast. He was so sweet with his lithe, 
graceful limbs, drooping inertly in tired 
abandon, with his white, bare chest gleaming 
through the ragged shirt, with his curly locks, 
his gracious, shy smiie, with the timid, pearly 
dimples accentuating the scarlet, smooth 
curve of his lips. And the wonder in his 
eyes, the vague defiance, the gleam of certain 
trust dawning through the shadowy fear ! It 
went to her heart, and made the Major, 
watching her, turn away, swearing softly. 

"Who are you, dear?" she whispered, 

"Jackie!" he replied, and — as if that 
embraced all details — added, " Where's 
Tinker ? " " 

The yellow dog answered for himself. At 
the mention of his name he leapt up, his 
fore-paws on the knees of the woman, his 
nose shoved gently, caressingly, against the 
wondering, flushed face of his master. The 
boy's hand fell lovingly on the yellow, bony 
head, and his eyes closed sleepily. 

" Dear old Tinks ! " he murmured. 

Then, nestling his hand into the throat of 
Katie's dress, he snuggled softly towards her, 
and smiling divinely — a little tired, happy 
smile — settled into sleep, with the yellow dog 
gazing with deep brown, wistful, grateful 
eyes, now at the woman, now at his fellow- 

And it was thus the Vagabonds gained a 
home in the heart of Katie Brand, while her 
husband, regarding them under lowered lids, 

Vol. xx.— 3. 

smoked many strong pipes and thought many 
strange thoughts. 

Strictly speaking, John Brand was a farmer. 
His title of Major applied only to his position 
in the Rifle Corps of his district. It was on 
the borders of the Orange Free State that 
his farm lay, being some thirty miles south- 
west of the angle formed by the river and 
that State's western boundary. In older days 
he had belonged to an Artillery corps in the 
home district, but domestic reasons had led 
him to seek a livelihood on the veldt. 

His first venture had been at the Diamond 
Fields, and it was in the neighbourhood of 
Kimberley he had first met his wife. The 
daughter of an Irish settler, her beauty had 
brought her many admirers. Her father had 
most favoured the suit of one Paul Jansen, 
a Boer farmer of considerable wealth. But 
from the first moment of Brand's arrival 
Katie had yielded her heart unconditionally. 
Brand's cold show of contempt for his rival, 
whom he knew to be a profligate of the 
shadiest honesty, had roused in the Boer a 
feeling of savage hatred for the young 
Englishman. This feeling was not lessened 
when, chiefly on Brand's evidence, he was 
exposed for illicitly trading in diamonds with 
the Kaffir employes, and only evaded punish- 
ment by flight. 

John Brand, in the happiness of marrying 
Kate and meeting with much luck, laughed 
at the threats which Jansen had breathed 
against him. Yet when, after amassing a 
comfortable fortune*, he set out South, with 
his wife and infant and his pile carefully 
bestowed in his waggon, he was soon 
destined to remember the Boer's menace. 

Lung sickness having broken out in his 
team, he obstinately refused to go on farther 
with the three other waggons that formed 
the caravan, and having given them a day's 
start, trekked slowly in their rear. One 
dark night as he was fording the Modder a 
sudden shot rang out, and Brand felt himself 
falling wildly into the yellow maze of water. 
When he recovered consciousness it was to 
find himself lying on the banks of the stream 
a hundred yards below the waggon, with his 
wife and driver bending over him. 

Even as he had struggled to his feet a 
shout from the boy in charge of the team 
attracted their attention. The sight they 
saw held them paralyzed. By the dusky 
flare of the lantern ever swung in the tent 
they saw a man leap from the tail-board. 
At his waist was the yellow bag containing 
the treasured diamonds, and in his left arm 





FRrt\| THE 

was a glistening bundle of white robes en- 
veloping their infant son. The man leapt on 
to his horse, and us John 1 \ rand staggered 
forward, with a hoarse cry, shook his sjambok 
mockingly at the horrified group, dug his 
spurs into the animal and galloped off into 
the night. 

All search, all inquiry, had proved un- 
availing, and six months later John Brand 
had settled down, a soured, hopeless man, 
on a little farm he had luckily purchased in 
Ktmberley before departing. 

With the advent of the Vagabonds, how- 
ever, the life at the liule homestead began to 
twinkle into an atmosphere of radiant cheer- 
fulness. The Major whistled for no assign- 
able cause, When his collar would not 
button, and he heard Jackie's voice ringing 
in greeting to his dog, he forgot the first 
time in many years to swear. His wife, 
too, began to sing again, and as she had a 

soft, sweet voice, with a 
touch of lilting brogue in it, 
the sound of her songs 
smote on the Major's heart- 
strings to new, strange 
echoes of youth. 

He had naturally deemed 
it his duty to search for the 
child's relations. But he 
was unfeigncdly glad that 
his efforts proved fruitless, 
The child was literally a 
very vagabond of the veldt, 
borne out of the great 
reaches of darkness and 
shadow, with none to claim 
or care for him. Beyond 
the assertion that he had 
come many days in a 
waggon, and run away from 
a bad man who whipped 
him, Jackie could tell no- 
thing. Even of the dog he 
could only say it had always 
been his friend, fought his 
battles, shared his crusts 
and whippings, and in the 
dark stolen away with him 
from the dreaded waggon. 

The boy grew into the 
Major's heart, He would 
look at him till his heart 
seemed to beat through its 
seared crust, and his eyes would blink softly, 
He was such a fearless, healthy, thorough 
boy, just such as his own son , , . , At 
that point he would pause, swear, and romp 
with the Vagabond. 

For the dog ! It was an impossible beast. 
Outside the two brown depths of jts mourn- 
ful, loving eyes it was a dull dead yellow, 
from the tip of its tail to the end of its nose, 
the colour of a clay-pit. Half of its left ear 
was bitten away, leaving but a tasselled edge. 
Its hard, bony skull was seamed with scars: 
its shoulders were dented deep with teeth- 
marks ; its left hind-leg had a great hole in 
it, which lent it a permanent kink and a 
ridiculous limp. It was evidently a fearless 
warrior, and in a quiet, sneaking way— with its 
tongue edgeways, licking it was given to 
vain and proud dreams of its wounds. 

For real pride in him, however, Tinker 
had no chance against Jackie. The boy 
loved the dog, and with the passion of five 
years he adored without discrimination. It 
was yellow, ugly, deformed, lean, with a 
limp, without a grace ; but it was Tinker, 
his friend^ .iuittUul,_ loyal ; and the boy's 

end, faithful, loyal : and 




heart, recognising kinship of ideal, demanded 
no more. 

When Major Brand and he fell out, and 
the occasions were not infrequent, for Jackie 
was something of a Turk, Katie was sure to 
find him later, his bare, brown arms circling 
the yellow, knotty neck of the hound— the 
child sound asleep, the dog lazily watchful, 
suspicious though friendly. 

So things went on for four years. Then 
came the bugle -call — Kruger's voice defying 
the stars in their courses. And Major 
Brand joined his corps and went to the front 
with Methuen's fighting division. He had 
tried hard to induce his wife to go to Cape 
Town. But with true Colonial tenacity she 
pleaded her duty to him and the farm, 
averring that with the farm hands she could 
always hold the homestead against marauding 
patrols — an opinion which Jackie stoutly 

The boy had grown a handy, intelligent 
little fellow, with a language composed of a 
strange medley of words— English, Kaffir, 
and Taal alternating indiscriminately. There 
was not much of the country within fifteen 
or twenty miles of the homestead that Jackie 
had not explored, his brown bare legs astride 
of a pony and Tinker ever at heel. His 
boast to keep a sharp look-out was, there- 
fore, accepted by -the Major with becoming 

Strangely enough, the most despondent 
member of the household on Brand's depar- 
ture was the yellow dog. Like most English- 
men, he had ever had a loving hand for the 
ugly, faithful cur, and Tinker's appreciation 
of the fact had only been equalled by his 
evident wonder. 

For days after the Major's departure the 
dog wandered restless and unhappy about 
the house ; sniffing curiously at the doors, 
and, as night grew near, whimpering, ill 
at ease and anxious. His perturbation 
reached a crisis when the booming of the 
big guns away towards the Orange River 
broke the sultry stillness of the air round 
Greendip Farm. Wher> the first boom 
reached the little homestead Jackie and the 
dog were sitting on the stoep, engaged 
in the genial occupation of teasing the pet 
monkey. With his one and a half ears 
pricked upright Tinker sat listening, every 
now and then giving vent to a snarling 
whimptr as the dull roll of the echoes faded 
and swelled and died among the outlying 

Jackie, flinging his arm round his friend's 
neck, tried to comfort him by many an in- 

genious trick of teasing. But for the first 
time in his experience Tinker took no notice 
of him. His eyes had a red glitter in them ; 
his scarred, ugly nose sniffed persistently at 
the wind ; ever and again a quick tremor 
ran through his limbs. Then, almost before 
Jackie was aware of it, the dog, with a 
melancholy whine, had slipped from his side 
and, with tail erect and snout to ground, was 
racing northwards over the veldt. 

The boy was after him in a minute, his 
mind alert at the thought of rock-rabbits, 
his brown legs twinkling feverishly among the 
long grasses. But it was a hopeless pursuit. 
The dog, giving no heed to his voice, kept 
ever straight on in a long, tireless stride, 
which finally took him out of sight. 
Exhausted and resentful, Jackie picked his 
way slowly back. He thought he had lost 
Tinker for good and all, and his little figure 
quivered with passionate anger, as some two 
hours later he related his loss to Katie, and 
declaimed against the ingratitude of all living 
things, especially yellow dogs. 


Ten o'clock sounded from the little clock 
hung on the wall in the large round hut that 
served Katie Brand for drawing-room. A 
log fire slumbered in the open hearth, the 
lamp on the table had burnt low and was 
smoking lazily. Mrs. Brand lay asleep in the 
cushioned cane chair, a book open on her 

She had wearied of Jackie's plaints for the 
loss of the dog, and sending him early to bed 
had indulged in the luxury of solitude. The 
almost oppressive stillness of the night had 
made her drowsy, and so it was that she never 
heard a faint whimpering and scratching at 
the door, and that the swift patter of feet 
from the communicating door had passed 
her unheeded. Even the opening of the 
door and Jackie's low gurgle of joyous 
welcome as he knelt by the side of his 
panting yellow friend failed to rouse her. 

Suddenly Jackie, with a low cry of alarm, 
started back and dragged the dog to the 
dim light. His hands and nightgown were 
stained with little red flecks like red snow- 
flakes, and Tinker seemed like a piece of 
crazy patchwork— here a daub of mud, here a 
streak of natural yellow, and everywhere 
daubs of that flaky, damp, staining red. 
The dog, with a low whimper, licked at his 
master's face, and then, seizing his night- 
gown, dragged him towards the door again. 
Jackie, a 1ft tie perplexed, snatched his gown 
away and watched with curious gaze the 

and watched 



antics of the dog. First he ran out, then 
paused, yelping softly. Then back he came 
again, and again seized the boy's gown, and, 
dragging him a little way towards the gate, 
paused again and whined, looking up at him 
with speaking, beseeching eyes. 

Jackie began to tremble with excitement. 
He felt he was on the brink of an adventure. 
He glanced at his " mother/* and then 
whispered, eagerly, " All right ! Ill come ! " 
He fled back on tip-toes to his room> and 
dressed himself—that is to say, he put on 
his slippers, drew on his breeches, tucking 
in his nightdress and girding the whole with 
his knotted braces, and hastily scrambling 
into a jacket crept back to the door* 

The dog greeted him with a sharp yelp of 
joy, and bounded away towards the gate. 
The boy snatched up a whip and bridle and 
paused to look at the sleeping form, 

Katie Brand was moving uneasily, mutter- 
ing, Jackie sneaked to her side and touched 
her hand with his lips. He was very fond of 
his " little mudder," as he called her, and he 
felt rather mean in leaving her. He found 
consolation in her whispered dream -words, 

*F1NU HIM 1 D JACK1& !' 

albeit they thrilled him with a certain 
fear : — 

(i Kind him ! O Jackie ! He is lying there 
wounded* I see the blood — the blood ! hf 

Jackie felt a sudden cold push on his leg, 
and turned with a start to find Tinker gazing 
at him in evident disapproval. He waited 
no longer, but, following the dog, swiftly 
bridled his pony in the adjacent kraal, and 
with Tinker leading galloped over the veldt. 

The night was fine and starlit, and the 
brooding stillness of the air lent added 
mystery to the adventure, As the dog led 
unfaltering ever on a sense of fear gripped 
at the boy's heart. Where was the dog 
taking him ? And for what? Yet every now 
and again, as the ugly yellow face looked 
back at him, he derived new courage and 
confidence from the look of mute intelligence 
and pur[5ose in the faithful brown eyes. 

Presently, after some three hours' riding, 
away to the right he saw lights gleaming and 
the ghostly shining of a vast array of tents. 
Then his pony commenced to shy, and, 
looking down, he turned pale. His way was 
strewn with dead horses, and here and there 
a white, ghastly face 
stared up from the 

his teeth, fol 

looking re- 

away from the 

ground, for the most 

part, indeed, keeping 

his eyes tight shut. 

Suddenly his horse, 
with a frightened 
whinny, halted dead, 
pitching him forward 
on his neck, Lot-i.ig 
his balance, he slid on 
to the ground, to find 
the dog at his feel, his 
nose pushed over the 
edge of a steep kraanz. 
With an intelligent 
glance at his master 
Tinker crawled over 
the brink, following a 
small goat track down 
tin- face of the cliff, 
Jackie's nerves were 
accustomed to dizzy 
depths, and with his 
hand gripping hard on 
the dog's collar. In* 
footsteps picked a sure 

the dog never 
and Jackie, 






way. About twelve feet down the path, 
taking a sharp tarn, opened out on to a fairly 
wide ledge, and then Tinker, with a plaintive 
howl, ran forward and reached the object of 
his errand. There, lying half unconscious, 
his khaki coat smeared and stained with 
blood, lay Major Brand. 

Jackie, with a thrill of fear and horror, 
knelt by his head, while the dog gazed from 
the one to the other, a curious gleam, as of 
complacent questioning, shining in his eyes. 

The Major, opening his eyes, gazed at the 
two of them as in a dream, for a moment 
believing his mind was wandering. Jackie 
dispelled the illusion. He flung his arms 
suddenly round the Major's neck, crying out, 
" Father, father: you are not dead then, after 
all ! " 

Though the stiff pain of the bullet wound 
in his shoulder was not 
improved by the generous 
pressure of Jackie's encircl- 
ing arms, the Major man- 
aged to smile. 

" Devil a bit, my son," 
he said, almost cheerfully. 

He had made up his 
mind to die in this nook 
where he had fallen, and the 
relief of this friendly pres- 
sure was great, u But how on 
earth did you come here ? " 

"It was dear old Tinks," 
replied Jackie, with fond 
pride; lo which Tinker 
blinked his appreciation, 
extravagantly thumping his 
ridiculous yellow tail against 
the hard rock. " He ran 
away this morning and 
came back and brought me. 
And mother was asleep, 
and I got out of bed and 
dressed myself and saddled 
Brownie, and Tinker 
showed the way, and 
Brownie's up above, and 
now you must please get 
up and come home." 

It was with a dizzy effort 
the Major, in answer to 
this breathless narration, 
staggered to his feet. His 
arm was broken. He was 
exhausted with loss of 
blood. He leant heavily 
against the rock, feeling 
the earth swimming in 
rainbow circles round him* 

** It's no go, Jackie," he gasped. " I should 
topple over the edge if I tried to crawl up 
there. Trot away to camp, little man, and 
bring a couple of men with a rope, 1 ' 

Jackie, after one critical, comprehending 
glance, turned on his heel and fled, sure-footed 
as a buck, up the path, 


It seemed to the Major, sitting painfully 
propped up on the ledge, that Jackie was a 
very long time in returning. True, he did 
not know exactly where his comrades w + ere 
now camped, But as victory had been a 
certainty at the moment when he had been 
struck, he felt pretty sure they were not far off. 
The delay, indeed, was not due to any 
dilatoriness on the part of the boy. When 
he had gained the veldt, with Tinker hard at 




Original from *\ 




his heels, he had sped off with all the haste 
of his excitement in direction of the twinkling 
lights of the camp. The starlit distances 
were treacherous, however, and the camp 
was a good seven miles away- The boys 
speed slowly slackened, and little by little 
he began to stumble rather than run. Sud- 
denly a low, fierce snarl from the dog brought 
him to a halt. But it was too late. From 
out of the hollows of the night four burly 
forms rose, and a rough hand seized the 
boy s shoulder. 

" What do you here ? " someone asked. 

" Down, Tinker ! " called Jackie, impe- 
riously, as the dog, with a low growl, lanced 
out at the detaining hand. Then turning to 
the man t in all unconsciousness that he was 
a Boer and an enemy, he speedily explained 
his errand and his father's predicament. A 
few whispered words passed between the 
men, and then Jackie felt a thong passed 
over his wrists, and his captor gruffly said : — 

" Your father shall be looked to. For 

AT ChNtltt tU THE KKAK," 



you, you must come to the Commandant. 
You may be all rights but you may be a spy 
of these cursed rooineks." 

It was an hour later when Jackie, with the 
dog curiously, sullenly, quiet at his heels, 
stood in a little tent on the hillside beyond 
the river, facing a burly man, whose coarse, 
red-bearded face and small, narrow eyes 
offered little inspiration of confidence, 

As the boy's eyes searched the man's face 
they filled with a vague, troubled fear. 
The dog, too, seemed suddenly irritated. 
The short, yellow hair on his neck bristled 
angrily, and a red, fierce glow grew into his 
eyes, while his lips were drawn hack in an 
ugly, mute> vicious snarl, more expressive of 
menace than many growls. It was obvious 
he did not like the Commandant 

He, Paul Jansen by name, eyed the 
two furtively, curiously, looking ever and 
again from the boy to the dog. Then 
a nasty smile as of recognition quivered 
for a moment on his lips, 

"Ah, my little 
friend," he said> 
"you have come 
back toOom Paul 
again, eh ? Play- 
ing spy for the 
rooineks, are you ? 
Ah, well, we shall 
see how a little 
sjambok agrees 
with you," 

"It is a lie"' 
cried the child. 
"1 am not a spy. 
I came to seek 
my father when 
your men caught 

"Of course," 
said the man, with 
a sneer. " And 
who might your 
father be?" 

"Major Brand," 
replied Jackie, 
with fearles! pride. 

For a moment a look almost of 
fear crept into the man's face, 
covered in an instant by a 
black scowl 
Before he could answer the tent door was 
pushed aside, and two men entered un- 
ceremoniously, supporting, not untenderly, 
between them the tottering form of the 
Major himself. 
Jackie sprang towards* him with a glad cry. 




The Major hardly noticed him. His eyes 
were fixed on the face of the Commandant, 
whose eyes were roving uneasily around. 

" Paul Jansen ! Ah, at last ! " ejaculated 
the Major. 

" Yes, Paul Jansen ! " retorted the other, 
with a sudden change to defiance. " You 
are a prisoner of war, and will be forwarded 
at once to the rear. For that brat there, he 
is a spy, and will meet a spy's death. At 
dawn he shall be shot." 

A low guttural murmur of disapproval ran 
through the group of Boers in the tent. 
Jansen turned on them furiously. 

" One such evidence of mutiny again," he 
cried, hoarsely, " and I will pistol the first 
who dares it." 

The men shrugged their shoulders and 
turned away. 

John Brand had become very white. 

"You will never dare it," he said, in a 
harsh whisper. " It would be murder. If 
you must shoot anyone, shoot me." 

" He is a spy ! " retorted Jansen, viciously, 
"and shot he shall be. I know him. He was in 
my service till lately, and he ran away to serve 
you. He was the son of my servant-maid." 

As the man spoke the words his furtive 
eyes glanced quickly, cunningly, at the other 
to note the effect. 

Something in that glance illumined the 
Major's mind with a sudden light. He felt 
his heart beating in his throat. He turned 
to Jackie. 

" Is it true ? " he said. " Were you ever 
with this brute ? " 

Jackie nodded. 

The Major felt the blood burn swiftly to 
his face and as swiftly recede. His eyes 
were glued on the child's erect, graceful form 
and features— the curling, gold-brown hair, 
the wide, fearless eyes, the tender curve of 
the lips, so like, so absurdly like, Katie's. 
What a blind fool he had been ! He turned 
suddenly and walked up to Jansen. 

" You are a liar ! " he said. " The boy is 
my son, the child you stole nine years ago. 
Bandit and thief and highway robber as you 
are, you shall not be permitted to do this 
thing. I will see your general this night." 

Jansen's face grew white, but as swiftly 
turned to a livid look of fiendish triumph. 

" You are too late ! " he snarled, pointing 
to the whitening sky without. " It is dawn 
already. You shall stay and see the execu- 

The Major with a swift movement lifted 
his hand and smote the ruffian full on the 

Jansen reeled back, recovered himself, 
wiped his bleeding lip, and smiled. " That 
we will settle later," he said. Then turning 
to his men : " Blindfold the boy, place him 
twelve paces from the door of my tent. Bind 
this man and place him there, facing the boy. 
You, Bothe, and you, Meth, take your rifles, 
and when I give the word fire, and see to it 
that you don't miss." 

Five minutes later the livid sunlight smote 
on the fair curls of the child, as, erect and 
beautiful in his graceful, supple curve of limb, 
he stood on the side of the bronzed veldt, 
facing the levelled barrels of the two Boer 
sharp-shooters. The Major, bound hand and 
foot, stood with white, strained face, and eyes 
lurid with passion, gazing on Jansen, who, 
revolver in either hand, stood at the back of 
his two men. 

He did not notice the look that glanced 
and met and was understood by each as at 
his word the men stood ready. 

" Fire !" he snarled, hoarsely. 

The Major with a bitter curse bowed his 

Two shots rang out in the clear air, and 
Jackie felt the singing hiss of two bullets 
whizz one at either side of his head. 

" Curse you ! " yelled the Commandant ; 
" you have missed." 

" Yah ! " grunted in the same breath the 
two men. " Missed we have, and miss we 
shall if you keep us here till Christmas." 

And with cool courage they loaded their 
rifles, spitting phlegmatically after the re- 
jected cartridges. 

With an oath Jansen hurled them aside, 
and, levelling his revolver, took steady aim 
at the boy. But even as he fired a flash of 
dirty yellow lanced athwart the sunlight, and 
Tinker, who till that moment had crouched 
unobserved at the Major's feet, flew at the 
levelled hand of the Commandant. 

The report of the pistol was followed by 
a long, unearthly howl, and the dog sank 
bleeding to the earth as Jansen, shaken and 
upset, recoiled in startled fear. 

At the sound of that howl Jackie, till 
then motionless, sprang forward and, tearing 
the bandage from his eyes, flung himself on 
the dog. 

" Who did it ? Who did it ? " he cried. 

Something in the imperious blazing of the 
child's eyes awed Bothe into responding by 
a silent nod in the direction of his Com- 

With a cry of rage he sprang to his feet 
and literally flung himself on Jansen, grasp- 
ing -at. AgpStiU. sm^ revolver. Even as 



he did so the clatter of horses 5 hoofs was 
heard* Round the corner of the tent swept 
a cavalcade, and Bathe and Meth sprang to 
attention, ejaculating, " The General ! " 

The unlooked-for arrival of the dreaded 
Cronje in person startled the Commandant 


into a swift recoil, staying his uplifted fist. 
In his hand he clasped the barrel of his 
revolver, and as he dragged it back the 
child's sturdy fingers, clinging to the butt, 
locked suddenly on the trigger There was 
a flush, a report, and Jansen lurched sud- 

denly forward, shot through the heart, falling 
face downward on the boy. 

The explanation that followed was short 
and to the point, the two troopers bearing 
manful evidence on the child's behalf. 

The Boer 
General glanced 
coldly on the still 
twitching face of 
the Commandant 
11 He was a dog!" 
he said, shortly, 
"and died like a 
dog. He is well 
served. As for 
you, child, get you 
home. We war 
not with children.' 3 
"T wont go with- 
out my father," 
said the boy, 
stoutly, facing the 

Cronje smiled 

"Take your 
father, then," he 
said, " and be off. 
You, there, see 
them through the 

It was some 
seven hours later 
that Major Brand 
reached home. 
Jackie had pre- 
vailed on the two 
Boers to make a 
litter and bear the 
dog along* And 
when the Major, 
later, after telling 
his wife the true 
identity of the 
boy they had 
so strangely 
found, visited with 
her the room where the two Vagabonds 
slept, perhaps his eyes were just as misty 
as the eyes of the mother, as, bending over 
the flushed, sleeping face, she tried to spell 
out of his features the tiny baby face she 
had mourned so long, 

by Google 

Original from 

Sociable Fish. 

By Frank T. Bl'u.kx, KR.(i.S, 

N one of the most charming 
chapters of that truly charming 
book, Gilbert White's "Natural 
H istory of Sd borne," the gentle 
author tells of some strange 
instances of sociability among 
the denizens of the farm yard, a craving for 
companionship that brought into intimate 
acquaintanceship such widely differing 
animals as a horse 
and a hen, a doe and 
some cattle. This, as 
a proof that loneliness 
is an abnormal con- 
dition of life even 
among the lesser in- 
telligences of creation, 
11 gives to think," as 
our neighbours say ; 
but probably few 
people would imagine 
that the same desire for 
society obtains even among the inhabitants 
of the deep and wide sea. 

I do not now speak of such gregarious fish 
as compose the great shoals that beneficently 
visit the shallower waters washing populous 
countries, from whose innumerable multi- 
tudes whole nations may be fed without 
making any appreciable diminution in their 
apparently infinite numbers, but of those 
more varied and widely scattered species that 
are to be found near 
the sea-surface all over 
the ocean, In the 
ordinary routine of 
modern passenger 
traffic no observation 
of these truly deep sea 
fish is possible, for in 
the first place the 
breathless panting of 
the propeller fills them 
with dread of the 
swiftly gliding monster 

whose approach it heralds : and in the next, 
the would-be observer has no time to catch 
even a glimpse of the inhabitants of that 
teeming world beneath him with, perhaps, 
the exception of a rapidly-passing school of 
poroses or the hurried vision of a sea- 
shouldering whale. 
No, for the deliberate observation neces- 

Vol. \x.— 4. 




sary in order to know something of the sea- 
people a sailing ship must be chosen, the 
slower the better, one wherein may be felt 
to its fullest extent by the mindless, sightless 
passenger the *- intolerable tedium of a long 
voyage." In such a ship as this the student 
of marine natural history, provided he be 
not responsible to stern owners for the 
length of his passage, will welcome with 
great delight the solemn 
hush of the calm, when 
the windless dome 
above him is filled 
with perfect peace, 
and the shining circle 
upon which he floats 
is like the pupil of 
God*s eye. Then, lean- 
ing over the taffrail, 
looking earnestly down 
into the crystalline 
blue, you may see the 
bottom of the ship without visible support as 
if poised in a sky of deeper blue and more 
limpid atmosphere. The parasitic life that 
has already attached itself to the vessel is all 
busy living. Barnacles (Fig. i }, with their 
long, glutinous feet - stalks waving in the 
imperceptible motion, are expanding from 
between their shells delicate fringes of brown, 
that, all eves to see and hands to hold, allow 
nothing that can feed them to pass them by. 
And as they flex them- 
selves inward with the 
supplies they have 
drawn from the appa- 
rently barren water, 
you can fancy that the 
pearly whiteness of the 
shells gleams with a 
brighter lustre as of 
satisfaction. The dull- 
hued limpets {Fig. 2), 
like pustules breaking 
out upon the ship's 
sheathing, may also he discerned, but less 
easily, because they have such a neutral tint 
and love to nestle amongst a tangle of dank, 
deep-green sea-moss, that, except where the 
light from above breaks obliquely down upon 
it, looks almost black. 

But a little patient watching will reveal a 
set of tiny.-^arma . forth-darting from the 




irregular opening in the apex of each limpet- 
cone. They, too, are busy continually, arrest- 
ing every morsel, invisible to feeble human 
sight, that comes within their reach, and pass- 
ing it inside for the up- keep of the compact, 
Self-contained residence. And there, can it 
be possible, at all this distance from land ? 
It is not only possible but undeniable that 
there is a crab (Fig. 2), an impudent, inquisi- 
tive little tangle of prying claws surrounding 
a disc about the size of a shilling* He strops 
in leisurely fashion, but making a track at all 
sorts of angles, among the living fixtures skin 
ing each barnacle or limpet with a ludicrous 
air of contempt, as it seems. You can almost 
imagine him saying : t& I never saw such a lot 
of dead-an' alive ornaments in my life. Say ! 

how dyou like stoppin' 

in the same old spot 
for ever an 1 ever ? n 
But, impervious to his 
rudeness, the busy crea- 
tures never cease their 
one set of movements, 
utterly ignoring his 
very existence. You 
cannot help but wonder 
what becomes of that 
little crab when the 
ship begii^ tc move, 
for you know that he 
caiVt possibly hold on 
against the tremendous 
brushing past of the 
water. He isn't built 
for that. 

The other parasites, 
whether animal or vege- 
table, have, you notice, 
been busy for who shall 
say how long adapting themselves to every 
condition of their dependent life, so that now, 
whatever motion be made by the ship, they 
present to the onrush of the water just the 
right angle of surface that will allow it to 
slip over them easily, while at the same 
time they are always in a position lo levy 
contributions, There is a puzzling lead- 
coloured streak along the copper near the 
keel to which your eye returns again and 
ajzain, fur although it will persist in looking 
like a place whence a strip of sheathing has 
been torn, there is yet a suggestion of quiver- 
ing life about it which is certainly not the 
tremulous outline given to every inanimate 
object under water. Suddenly your doubts 
are set at rest — the mystery is solved. The 
steward has cast over the side some frag- 
ments of food that settle slowly downwards, 

by Google 

turning over and over as they sink and 
catching the diffused light at every point, 
so that they sparkle like gems. As they 
pass the almost motionless keel the leaden- 
looking streak suddenly detaches itself, and, 
almost startlingly revealed as a graceful fish, 
intercepts and swallows those morsels one 
after the other. You fetch a few more frag- 
ments, and, dropping them one by one, entice 
your new acquaintance nearer the surface, so 
that you may admire the easy grace of every 
movement, and study at your leisure the 
result of this creature's development along 
certain lines of inventiveness. 

It is a Rernvra, or " sucker" (Fig, 3), a 
species of shark that never exceeds a dozen 
pounds in weight, Having all the shark's 

usual qualities of sloth- 

fulness, voracity, and 
timorousness, it is pre- 
vented from becoming 
ferocious also by its 
limitations of size and 
the feebleness of its 
teeth. And as it would 
be hopeless for it 10 
attempt to prey upon 
other fish while they 
are alive, from its lack 
of the requisite speed 
as well as from the 
scarcity of fish of suffi- 
ciently small size in the 
deep waters which are 
its abiding-place, it has 
developed a parasitic 
habit, which saves it a 
whole world of trouble 
by insuring its protec- 
tion, economizing exer- 
tion, and keeping it in the midst of a plentiful 
food supply. All these objects are attained 
in the simplest manner possible, aided by an 
unfailing instinct guiding the creature in its 
selection of an involuntary host. 

On the top of its head, which is perfectly 
flat, it has developed an arrangement which 
has, perhaps, the most artificial appearance 
of anything found in am mated Nature (Fig. 4). 
It is in plan an oblong oval, with a line run- 
ning along its middle, to which other diagonal 
lines, perfectly parallel to each odier, extend 
from the outer edge. The whole thing is 
curiously like the non-slipping tread moulded 
upon the soles of many lawn-tennis shoes. 
This strangely patterned contrivance is really 
an adhesive attachment of such strength 
that, when by its means the fish is holding 
on to any plane surface, it is impossible 

Original from 






to drag the body away, except by almost 
tearing the fish in half. Vet by the flexing 
of some simple muscles the fish can release 
its body instantly, or as instantly re-attach 
itself. Of course, it always adheres to its 
host with its head pointing in the same 
direction as the host usually travels, because 
in that manner the pressure of the water 
assists the grip of the sucker and keeps the 
whole body lying flatly close to whatever is 
carrying it along. In this position it can 
perform all the natural functions. Its wide 
mouth gapes ; its eyes, set one on either side 
of" its flattened head, 
lake in a most com- 
prehensive view of the 
prospect, so that 
nothing having the 
appearance of edibility 
can pass that way with- 
out being seen and, if 
the speed of its host 
admits, immediately 
investigated. Thus its 
sociability is obviously 
of the most selfish 
kind. It sticketh closer 
than a brother, but 
affection for its pro 
tecting companion 
forms no part of its 
programme. Its num- 
ber is, emphatically, 

I have used the 
word * b host " intention- 
ally, because the re- 
mora does not by any 
means limit its company to ships. It is 
exceedingly fond of attaching itself to the 
body of a whale, and also to some of the 
larger sharks, Indeed, it goes a step farther 
than mere outward attachment in the latter 
case, because well-authenticated instances are 
recorded where several suckers have been 
found clinging to a huge shark's palate. 
This is another stage on the way to perfect 
parasitism, because under such circumstances 
these daring lodgers needed not to detach 


eueu not 10 uetac 


themselves any more. They had only to 
intercept sufficient food for their wants on 
its way from the front door to the interior 
detriments. I have also seen them clinging 
to the jaw of a sperm whale, but that jaw 
was not in working order. It was bent 
outwards at right angles to the body, and 
afforded harbourage to u most comprehensive 
collection of parasites, barnacles especially, 
giving the front elevation of that whale an 
appearance utterly unlike anything with life. 

Hut John Chinaman has outwitted the 
superlatively lazy rem or a, Ky what one must 
regard as a triumph of ingenuity he has 
succeeded in converting the very means 
whereby this born-tired fish usually escapes 
all necessity for energy into- an instrument 
for obtaining gain for other people. The 
mode is as follows ; First catch your remonu 
No difficulty here. A hook and line of the 
simplest, a bait of almost anything that 
looks eatable lowered by the side of a ship, 
and if there be a sucker hidden there he will 
be after the lure in- 
stantly. The only skill 
necessary is to haul 
him up swiftly when he 
bites, because if he be 
allowed to get hold of 
the ship again you may 
pull the hook out of 
his jaws, but you will 
not succeed in detach- 
ing him. Having 
caught a remora, the 
fisherman fastens a 
brass ring closely 
round its body, just at 
its smallest part before 
the spread of the tail 
To this he attaches a 
long, fine, and strong 
line. He then departs 
for the turtle grounds 
with his prisoner. 
Arriving there he con- 
fines himself to keep- 
ing the remora away 
from the bottom of his boat by means of a 
bamboo (Fig. 5). Of course the captive gels 
very tired, and no turtle can puss within 
range of him without his hanging on to that 
turtle for a rest (Fig. 6). The moment he 
does so the turtle's fate is sealed. Struggle 
how he may, he cannot shake loose the tena- 
cious grip of the sucker, and the stolid yellow 
man in the sampan has only to haul in upon 
the line 10 bring that unwilling turtle within 
range of hi^an^^i^lift him into the boat, 




1 " |— l^^, t 

1 • . M 


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f" — — — — — j^ -J^M 

p- _ 

^ — ..^ • ■ 

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2ZL — ll,.-:- • - 

— _ ■ "'- _. ■ 

r ^^--: ~ ~- ■ 

~ "",' ^zz; 

=u3fe=r^ -rn: 

■ - — :.*T 

_^ _ 

6l--the turtle caught. 

And this ingenious utilization of the sucker's 
well-known peculiarity has also commended 
itself to the sc mi- barbarous fishermen of the 
East African littoral, who are not otherwise 
notable for either ingenuity or enterprise. 

Before we dismiss the remora to his 
beloved rest again it is worthy of notice that 
he himself gives unwilling hospitality to 
another sociable creature. It is a little 
crustacean, rather like an exaggerated wood 
louse, but without the same power of curling 
'itself into a ball. It is of a pearly-white 
colour, very sluggish in its movements, but 
with tenacious hooks upon its many legs it 
holds on securely to the inside of the sucker's 
mouth near the gill-slits, being there pro- 
vided with all the needs of Its existence, 
without the slightest effort of its own. Its 
chief interest to naturalists lies in its strange 
likeness to the fossil trilobites so plentifully 
scattered among various geological strata. 

But while you have been watching the 
remora a visitor from the vast openness 
around has arrived, as if glad of the society 
afforded by the ship. Yet in this case the idea 
seems a fond conceit, because the newcomer 
is only a "jelly-fish/' or "Medusa" (Kig, 7). 
It is really an abuse of language to use the 
word " fish " in connection with such an almost 
impalpable entity as the Medusa, because 
while a fish is an animal high up the scale of 
the vertebrata, a Medusa is almost at the 
bottom of the list of created things, When 
floating in the sea it is an exceedingly pretty 
object, with its clear, mushroom-shaped disc 

upper most, and long fringe of feathery fila- 
ments, sometimes delicately coloured, waving 
gracefully beneath with each pulsation of 
the whole mass. It lias no power of in- 
dependent locomotion, no— but, there, it is 
not easy to say what it has got, since if you 
haul one up in a bucket and lay it on deck 
in the sun, it will melt entirely away, leaving 
not a trace behind except two or three tiny 
morsels of foreign matter which did not 
belong to its organism at all. Yet if one of 
these masses of jelly comes into contact 
with your bare skin it stings like a nettle, for 
it secretes, in some mysterious way, an acrid 
fluid that serves it instead of many organs pos- 
sessed by farther advanced creatures. As 
the present subject passes beneath your 
gaze you notice quite a little cluster of tiny 
fish smaller even than full-grown tittlebats, 
perhaps a dozen or so, who look strangely 
forlorn in the middle of the ocean. It may 
be that this sense of loneliness leads them to 
seek the shelter of something larger than 
themselves, something which will be a sort 
of rallying point in such a wide world of 

Perhaps the lovely streamers dangling have 
aroused their curiosity, but, whatever the 
motive, you see the little group huddled 
round the Medusa, popping in and out from 
the edge of the disc, through which you can 
plainly see them as they pass beneath. It is 
quite pretty to watch those innocent games 
of the sportive little fish, but presently you 
notice that one of them doesn't play any 
more. He is entangled among those elegant 

by Google 

OrT0MSrrKfiff ,ELLVF1S " 



fringes and hangs like a little silver streak, 
brightening and fading as it is turned by the 
pulsatory movement of the Medusa, And if 
you could watch it long enough you would 
see it gradually disappear, absorbed into the 
jelly-like substance by the solvent secreted 
by the Medusa for that purpose. Still uncon- 
scious of their companions fate* the other 
little victims continue to play in that trea- 
cherous neighbourhood j voluntarily supplying 
the needs of an organism immeasurably 
beneath them in the sum-total of all those 
details that go to make up conscious life- 

Closely gathered 
about the rudder and 
stern - post is another 
group of larger fish, the 
several individuals 
being from 4m. to 8in. 
long, and most elegant 
in shape and roloun 
They evidently seek the 
ship for protection, for 
they scarcely ever leave 
her vicinity for more 
than 2ft. or 3ft If one 
of them does dart away 
that distance after 
some, to you* imper- 
ceptible morsel of food, 
it is back again in a 
flash, sidling up to her 
sheathing closer than 
ever, as if dreadfully 
alarmed at its own 
temerity* A small hook 
baited with a fragment 
of meat will enable you 
to catch one if only 
you can get it to fall 
close enough to the 

rudder — no easy matter, because of the 
great overhang of the stern, In the old- 
fashioned ships , where the rudder - head 
moved in a huge cavity called the rudder- 
trunk, I have often caught them by dropping 
my hook down there, and very sweet-eating 
little fish they were. Sailors call them 
" mdder-fisrv ' a trivial name derived from 
their well-known habit, but they are really a 
species of "caranx," and akin to the 
mackerel tribe, which has so many repre- 
sentatives among deep-water fish (Fig, 8). 
They are, perhaps, the most sociable of all 
the fish that visit a ship far out at sea ; but 
they present the same problem that the crab 
did a little while ago : What becomes of 
them when a breeze springs up and the 
vessel puts on speed ? 

by v^ 



I have often watched them at the begin- 
ning of a breeze, swimming steadily along 
by the side of the stern post, so as to be 
clear of the eddies raised by the rudder ; 
but it was always evident that a rate of over 
three knots would leave them astern very 
soon. Not less curious is the speculation 
as to whence they come so opportunely. 
There seems to be very few of them, yet an 
hour or two's calm nearly always shows a little 
company of them cowering in their accus- 
tomed place, As you watch them wonder- 
ingly, a broad blaze of reflected light draws 
your attention to the 
splendid shape of a 
dolphin gliding past 
and exposing the silver 
shield of his side to 
the sun's rays, which 
radiate from it with 
an almost unbearable 
glare. At that instant 
every one of the little 
fish beneath you gather 
into one compact 
bunch, so close to the 
stem - ix) st that they 
look as if part of it. 
When they can no 
longer keep up with 
the ship's protecting 
bulk how do they 
escape the jaws of such 
beautiful ravenous 
monsters as that which 
has just passed? 
The swift flying - fish 
cannot do so, even 
with the swallow -like 
speed that he possesses 
and the power of skim- 
ming through the air for a thousand yards 
at a flight. What chance, then, can our 
shrinking little companions possibly have, or 
how do they survive amidst so many enemies? 
It is an unsolvable mystery. 

What is this cold grey shadow stealing along 
through the bright blue water by the keel? 
A shark, and a big one, too ( Fig. 9). No one 
doubts the reason for hh sociability ; in fact, 
he (or she) is credited by most sailors with a 
most uncanny knowledge of what is going 
on aboard any ship he chooses to honour 
with his company. We need not be so 
foolish as to believe any of these childish 
stories, especially when the obWous explana- 
tion lies so closely o\\ the surface. Heredity 
accounts for a great many things that have 
long been credited with supernatural origins, 




and the shark's attachment to the society 
of ships is so plainly hereditary that the 
slightest thought upon the subject will 
convince any unbiased person of the reason- 
ableness of the explanation. For many 
generations the shark, born scavenger that 
he is, has learned to associate the huge 
shadow cast by a ship with food, not per- 
haps in such mountainous abundance as 
that provided by the carcass of a dead 
whale, but still scattering savoury morsels at 
fairly regular intervals. From its earliest 
days — when, darting in and out of its 
mother's capacious jaws, it has shared in the 
spoil descending from passing ships— to the 
end of what is often a very 
long life, ships and food 
are inseparably associated 
in whatever answers to its 
mind in the shark, Man, 
alive or dead, always makes 
a welcome change of diet 
to a Ash that, by reason of 
his build, is unable to prey 
upon other fish as do the 
rest of his neighbours* 

As I have said elsewhere, 
the shark eats man because 
man is easy to catch, not 
because he likes mans flesh 
better than any other form 
of food, as many landsmen 
and even sailors believe, 
But the shark is only able 
to gratify his sociable in- 
stincts in calms or very 

light airs. He is far too slothful, too con- 
stitutionally averse to exertion, to expend 
his energies in the endeavour to keep up 
with a ship going at even a moderate rate of 
speed* Let the wind drop, however, and in 
few parts of the sea will you be without a 
visit from a shark for many hours. In one 
vessel that I sailed in the skipper had such 
a delicate nose that he could not bear the 
stench of the water in which the day's allow- 
ance of salt meat had been steeped to get 
some of the pickle out of it. So he ordered 
a strong net to be made of small rope, and 
into this the meat was put, the net secured 
to a stout line, and hung over the stern just 
low enough to dip every time the vessel 
curtsied* The plan answered admirably for 
some time, until one night the wind fell to a 
calm, and presently the man at the wheel 
heard a great splash behind him. He rushed 
to the taffrail and looked over, just in time 
to see the darkness beneath all aglow with 
phosphorescence, showing that some unusual 
agitation had recently taken place. He ran 
to the net-lanyard, and, taking a good pull, 
fell backward on deck, for there was nothing 
fast to it Net and meat were gone. The 
skipper was much vexed, of course, that the 
net hadn't been hauled up a little higher 
when it fell calm, for, as he told the mate, 
anybody ought to know that ^olb. of salt 
pork dangling overboard in a calm was 
enough to call a shark up from a hundred 
miles away. 

As this particular shark, now sliding 
stealthily along the keel towards the stern, 
becomes more clearly visible, you notice what 
looks at first like a bright blue patch on top 

by dOOgle 





of his head. But, strange to say, it is not 
fixed ; it shifts from side to side, backwards 
and forwards, until, as the big fish rises 
higher, you make it out to be the pretty little 
caranx that shares with the crocodile and 
buffalo birds the reputation of being the 
closest possible companion and chum of so 
strangely diverse an animal to himself (Fig. 
1 o). And now we are on debatable ground, for 
this question of the sociability of the pilot-fish 
with the shark has been most hotly argued. 
And perhaps, like the cognate question of 
the flight of flying-fish, it is too much to 
hope that any amount of first-hand testimony 
will avail to settle it now. Still, if a man 
will but honestly state what he has seen, not 
once, but many times repeated, his evidence 
ought to have some w r eight in the settlement 
of even the most vexed questions. Does 
the pilot-fish love the shark ? Does it even 
know that the shark is a shark, a slow, short- 
sighted, undiscriminating creature whose 
chief characteristic is that of never-satisfied 
hunger? In short, does the pilot-fish attach 
itself to the shark as a pilot, with a definite 
object in view, or is the attachment merely 
the result of accident ? Let us see. 

Here is a big shark-hook, upon which we 
stick a mass of fat pork two or three pounds 
in weight. Fastening a stout rope to it, we 
drop it over the stern with a splash. The 
eddies have no sooner smoothed away than 
we see the brilliant little blue and gold pilot- 
fish coming towards our bait at such speed 
that we can hardly detect the lateral vibrations 
of his tail. Round and round the bait he 
goes, evidently in a high state of excitement, 
and next moment he has darted off again as 
rapidly as he came. He reaches the shark, 
touches him with his head on the nose, and 
comes whizzing back again to the bait, followed 
sedately by the dull-coloured monster. As 
if impatient of his huge companion's slow- 
ness he keeps oscillating between him and 
the bait until the shark has reached it and, 
without hesitation, has turned upon his back 
to seize it, if such a verb can be used to 
denote the deliberate way in which that 
gaping crescent of a mouth enfolds the lump 
of pork. Nothing, you think, can increase 
the excitement of the little attendant now. 
He seems ubiquitous, flashing all round the 
shark's jaws as if there were twenty of him 
at least. But when half-a-dozen men, 
"tailing on" to the rope, drag the shark 
slowly upward out of the sea, the faithful 
little pilot seems to go frantic with — what 
shall we call it? — dread of losing his protector, 
affection, anger, who can tell ? 

Digitized by Google 

The fact remains that during the whole 
time occupied in hauling the huge writhing 
carcass of the shark up out of the water the 
pilot-fish never ceases its distracted upward 
leaping against the body of its departing 
companion. And after the shark has been 
hauled quite clear of the water the bereaved 
pilot darts disconsolately to and fro about 
the rudder as if in utter bewilderment at its 
great loss. For as long as the calm continues, 
or until another shark makes his or her 
appearance, that faithful little fish will still 
hover around, every splash made in the water 
bringing it at top speed to the spot as if it 
thought that its friend had just returned. 

No doubt there is a mutual benefit in the 
undoubted alliance between pilot-fish and 
shark, for I have seen a pilot-fish take 
refuge, along with a female shark's tiny brood, 
within the parent's mouth at the approach of 
a school of predatory fish, while it is only 
reasonable to suppose, what has often been 
proved to be the fact, that in guiding the shark 
to food the pilot also has its modest share of 
the feast. It is quite true that the pilot-fish 
will for a time attach itself to a boat when its 
companion has been killed. Again and again 
I have noticed this on a whaling voyage, 
where more sharks are killed in one day 
while cutting-in a whale than many sailors 
see during their whole lives. 

Hitherto we have only considered those 
inhabitants of the deep sea that foregather 
with a ship during a calm. Not that the 
enumeration of them is exhausted, by any 
means, for during long-persisting calms, as I 
have often recorded elsewhere, many queer 
denizens of the middle depths of ocean are 
tempted by the general stagnation to come 
gradually to the surface and visit the un- 
familiar light. Considerations of space pre- 
clude my dealing with many of these in- 
frequent visitors to the upper strata of the 
sea, but I cannot refrain from mention of 
one or two that have come under my notice 
at different times. One especially 1 tried for 
two days to inveigle by various means, for I 
thought (and still think) that a stranger fish 
was never bottled in any museum than he 
was. He was sociable enough, too. I dare 
say his peculiar appearance was dead against 
his scraping an acquaintance with any 
ordinary-looking fish, who, in spite of their 
well-known curiosity, might well be excused 
from chumming up with any such "sport " as 
he undoubtedly was (Fig. 1 1 ). He was about 
i8in. long, with a head much like a gurnard 
and a tapering body resembling closely in its 
contour that of a cod. So that as far as his 




11. — A KISIiV 

shape went there was nothing particularly 
tfwfrr in his appearance. But he was bright 
green in colour— at least, the ground of his 
colour-scheme was bright green. He was 
dotted profusely with glaring crimson spots 
about the size of a sixpence. And from the 
centre of each of these spots sprang a brilliant 
blue tassel upon a yellow stalk about an inch 
long. All his fins— and he had certain 'y 
double the usual allowance — were also fringed 
extensively with blue filaments, which kept 
fluttering and waving continually, even when 
he lay perfectly motionless, as if they were 
all nerves. His tail was a wonderful organ 
more than twice as large as his size warranted, 
and fringed, of course, as nil his other fins 
were, only more so. His eyes were very large 
and inexpressive, dead -looking in fact, 
reminding me of eyes that had been boiled. 
But over each of them protruded a sort of 
horn of bright yellow colour lor about two 
inches, at the end of which dangled a copious 
tassel of blue that seemed to obscure the 
uncanny creature's vision completely. 

To crown all, a dorsal ridge of crimson 
rose quite two inches, the whole length of 
his back being finished off by a long spike 
that stuck out over his nose like a jibboom, 
and had the largest tassel of all depending 
from it. So curiously decorated a fish surely 
never greeted mans eye before, and when 
he moved, which he did with dignified slow- 
ness, the effect of all those waving fringes 
and tassels was dazzling beyond expression. 
I think he must have been some distant 
relation of the angler-fish that frequents 
certain tidal rivers, but he had utilized his 
leisure for personal decoration upon original 

Digitized by L^OOgle 

lines. This was in the Indian Ocean, near 
the Line ; but some years after, in hauling 
up a mass of Gulf weed in the North 
Atlantic, I caught, quite by accident, a tiny 
fish, not two inches long, that strongly 
reminded me of my tasselled friend, and may 
have been one of the same species. I tried 
to preserve the little fellow in a bottle, but 
had no spirit, and he didn't keep in salt water. 

By far the most numerous class of sociable 
deep-sea fish, however, are those that delight 
to accompany a ship that is making good 
way through the water. They do not like a 
steamer— the propeller with its tremendous 
churning scares them effectually away — but 
the silent gliding motion of the sailing-ship 
seems just to their taste* As soon as the 
wind falls and the vessel stops they keep at 
a distance, only occasionally passing discon- 
tentedly, as if they wondered why their big 
companion was thus idling away the bright 
day* Foremost among these, both in 
numbers and the closeness with which they 
accompany a ship, arc the u bonito," a 
species of mackerel so named by the 
Spaniards from their beautiful appearance. 
They are a "chubby*' fish, much more 
bulky in body in proportion to their length 
than our mackerel, for one i8in + long will 
often tip the scale at 30IU Their vigour is 
tremendous ; there is no other word for it, 
A school of them numbering several hun- 
dreds will attach themselves to a ship 
travelling at the rate of six to eight knots an 
hour, and keep her company for a couple of 
days, swimming steadily with her, either 
alongside, ahead, or astern ; but during the 
day-time continually making short excursions 
away after flying- fish or lea ping-squid scared 
up or "flushed" by the approach of the 
ship. Not only so, but as if to work off 
their surplus energy they will occasionally 
take vertical leaps into the air to a height 
that, considering their stumpy proportions, is 

The probable reason for their sociability 
is, I think, that they know how the passing 
of the ship's deep keel through the silence 
immediately underlying the sea -surface 
startles upward their natural prey, the flying- 
fish and lohgo (small cuttle-fish), and affords 
them ample opportunities for dashing among 
them unobserved. In any case, to the 
hungry sailor, this neighbourly habit of theirs 
is quite providential. For by such simple 
means as a piece of white rag attached to a 
hook, and let down from the jibboom end to 
flutter over the dancing wavelets like a flying- 
fish a fine bonit oja- jpasily secured, although 




holding a twenty -pounder just out of the 
water in one's arms is calculated to give the 
captor a profound respect for the energy of 
his prize, Unlike most other fish, they are 
warm-blooded. Their flesh is dark and 
coarse* but if it were ten times darker and 
coarser than it is it would be welcome as a 
change from the everlasting salt beef and pork* 
The dolphin, about which so much con- 
fusion arises from the difference in nomen- 
clature between the natu- 
ralist and the seaman, has 
long been celebrated by 
poetic writers for its 
dazzling beauty. But be- 
tween the sailors dolphin, 
Cory pin? mi Hip pur h (for- 
give me for the jargon), 
which is a fish, and the 
naturalist's dolphin, Dei- 
pkinus deduct or, which is a 
mammal, there is far more 
difference than there is 
between a greyhound and 
a pig* Sailors call the 
latter a porpoise, and won't 
recognise any distinction 
between the De/phinus 
and any other small sea 
mammal (except a seal), 
calling them all porpoises. But no sailor 
ever meant anything else by "dolphin" than 
the beautiful fish of which I must say a few 
words in the small remaining space at my 
disposal. For some reason best known to 
themselves the dolphin do not care to 
accompany a ship so closely as the bonito. 
They are by no means so constant in their 
attention, for when the ship is going at a 
moderate speed they cannot curb their 
impatience and swim soberly along with her, 
and when she goes faster they seem to dislike 
the noise she makes, and soon leave her. 
But, although they do not stick closely to a 
ship, they like her company, and in light 
winds will hang about her all day, showing 
off their glories to the best advantage, and 
often contributing a welcome mess to the 
short commons of the fo'c's'le* Their average 
weight is about 151b, but from their elegant 
shape they are a far more imposing fish than 
the boriito. They are deepest at the head, 
which has a rounded forehead with a sharp 
front, and they taper gradually to the tail, 
which is of great size. A splendid dorsal fin 
runs the whole length of the back, which, 
when it is erected, adds greatly to their 
appearance of size. 

No pen could possibly do justice to the 
magnificence of their colouring, for, like 
" shot " silk or the glowing tints of the 
humming-bird, it changes with every turn. 
And when the fish is disporting under a 
blazing sun its glories are almost too brilliant 
for the unshaded eye ; one feels the need of 
smoked glass through which to view them. 
These wonderful tints begin to fade as soon 
as the fish is caught ; and although there is 

Vol. xx. — 5. 

by Google 


a series of waves of colour that ebb and flow 
about the dying creature, the beauty of the 
living body is never even remotely approached 
again, in spite of what numberless writers 
have said to the contrary. To see the 
dolphin in full chase after a flying fish (Fig. 
12), leaping like a glorious arrow 40ft. at 
each lateral bound through the sunshine, is 
a vision worth remembering. I know of 
nothing more gorgeous under heaven. 

The giant albacore, biggest mackerel of 
them all, reaching a weight of a quarter of a 
ton, does seek the society of a ship some- 
times, but not nearly so often as bonito and 
dolphin. And although I have caught these 
monsters in the West Indies from boats, I 
never saw one hauled on board ship. It 
would not be treating the monarch of the 
finny tribe respectfully to attempt a descrip- 
tion of him at the bare end of my article, so 
I must leave him, as well as the 4 * skip- 
jack," yellow -tail, and barracouta for some 
other occasion. Perhaps enough has now 
been said to show that sociability is not 
by any means confined to land animals, 
although the great subject of the sociability 
of sea-mammals has not even been touched 

Original from 

18=-, BWfw 1 * 8 


cob 3 L tf 


^ALKING of prize-fighters* sir, 
said the night watchman, who 
hat] nearly danced himself 
over the edge of the wharf in 
illustrating one of Mr. Cor- 
bet t's most trusted blows, and 
was now sitting down taking in sufficient air 
for three, they ain't wot they used to be 
when I was a hoy, They advertise in the 
papers for months and months about their 
fights, and when it does come off, they do it 
with gloves, and they're all right agin a day 
or two arter* 

I saw a picter the other day a one punch- 
ing a bag wot couldn't punch hark, for 
practice. Why, I remcmlx j r as a young man 
Sinker Pitt, as used to ave the Kings Arms 
'ere in Is old age : when V s wanted practice 
'is plan was to dress up, in a soft at and 
black coat like a chapel minister nr some- 
thing, and go in a pub and contradict 
people ; sail or men for choice. He'd f a no 
more thought o T hitting a pore 'armless hag 
than I should ha s thought of hitting mil 

Copyright, i^go* l^y W. \V r Jacnb* 

by Google 

The strangest prize fighter I ever come 
acrost was one wot shipped with me on the 
Ctitrftdrs/?. He was the most eggstrordinrv 
fighter I've ever seen or 'eard of, and e got 
to be such a nuisance afore Vd done with 
us that we could 'ardly call our souls our 
own. He shipped as an ordinary seaman— 
a unfair thing to do, as e was anything 
but ordinary, and 'ad no right to be there 
at all 

We'd got one terror on board afore he 
come, and that was Kill Bone, one o J the 
biggest and strongest men IVe ever seen 
down a ship's fo'c's'le, and that's saying a 
good deal. Built more like a bull than a 
man, e was, and when he was in his tantrums 
the best thing to do was to get out of 7 is 
way or else get into your bunk and keep 
quiet. Oppersition used to send 'im crazy 
a'most, an' if 'e said a red shirt was a blue 
one, you *ad to keep quiet It didn't do to 
agree with *im and call it blue even, cos if 
you did he T d call you a liar and punch you 
for telling lies. 

in the United States of America, 

Original from 



He was the only drawback to that ship. 
We 'ad a nice old man, good mates, and 
good grub. You may know it was Ai when 
I tell you that most of us 'ad been in 'er for 
several v'y'ges. 

But Bill was a drawback, and no mistake. 
In the main he was a 'earty, good-tempered 
sort o' shipmate as you'd wish to see, only, as 
I said afore, oppersition was a thing he could 
not and would not stand. It used to fly to 
his 'ed direckly. 

The v'y'ge I'm speaking of— we used to 
trade between Australia and London —Bill 
came aboard about an hour afore the ship 
sailed. The rest of us was already aboard 
and down below, some of us stowing our 
things away and the rest sitting down and 
telling each other lies about wot we'd been 
doing. Bill came lurching down the ladder, 
and Tom Baker put 'is 'and to 'im to steady 
'im as he got to the bottom. 

" Who are you putting your 'ands on ? " ses 
Bill, glaring at 'im. 

"Only 'olding you up, Bill," ses Tom, 

"Oh," ses Bill. 

He put 'is back up agin a bunk and pulled 
hisself together. 

'• 'Olding of me — up--was you?" he ses ; 
" whaffor, if I might be so bold as to arsk ? " 

" I thought your foot 'ad slipped, Bill, old 
man," ses Tom ; " but I'm sorry if it 'adn't." 

Bill looks at 'im agin 'ard. 

" Sorry if my foot didn't slip ? " he ses. 

" You know wot I mean, Bill," ses Tom, 
smiling a uneasy smile. 

" Don't laugh at me," roars Bill. 

" I wasn't laughing, Bill, old pal," ses 

" 'E's called me a liar," ses Bill, looking 
round at us ; " called me a liar. 'Old my 
coat, Charlie, and I'll split 'im in halves." 

Charlie took the coat like a lamb, though 
he was Tom's pal, and Tom looked round to 
see whether he couldn't" nip up the ladder 
and get away, but Bill was just in front of it. 
Then Tom found out that one of 'is boot- 
laces was undone and he knelt down to do 
it up, and this young ordinary seaman, Joe 
Simms by name, put his 'ead out of his bunk 
and he ses, quiet-like : — 

" You ain't afraid of that thing, mate, are 

" Wall" screams Bill, starting. 

" Don't make such a noise when I'm 
speaking," ses Joe ; " where's your manners, 
you great 'ulking rascal ? " 

" I thought Bill would ha' dropped with 
surprise at being spoke to like that. His 

by L^OOgle 

face was purple alf* over and 'e stood staring 
at Joe as though 'e didn't know wot to make 
of 'im. And we stared too, Joe being a 
smallish sort o' chap and not looking at all 

" Go easy, mate," whispers Tom ; " you 
don't know who you're talking to." 

"Bosh," ses Joe, "he's no good. He's 
too fat and too silly to do any 'arm. He 
sha'n't 'urt you while I'm 'ere." 

He just rolled out of 'is bunk and, stand- 
ing in front of Bill, put 'is fists up at 'im and 
stared 'im straight in the eye. 

" You touch that man," he ses, quietly, 
pointing to Tom, " and I'll give you such a 
dressing - down as you've never 'ad afore. 
Mark my words, now." 

" I wasn't going to 'it him," ses Bill, in a 
strange, mild voice. 

" You'd better not," ses the young 'un, 
shaking his fist at 'im ; " you'd better not, my 
lad. If there's any fighting to be done in 
this fo'c's'le I'll do it. Mind that." 

It's no good me saying we was staggered ; 
becos staggered ain't no word for it. To see 
Bill put 'is hands in 'is pockets and try and 
whistle, and then sit down on a locker and 
scratch 'is head, was the most amazing thing 
I've ever seen. Presently 'e begins to sing 
under his breath. 

" Stop that 'umming," ses Joe ; " when I 
want you to 'urn I'll tell you." 

Bill left off 'umming, and then he gives a 
little cough behind the back of 'is 'and, and 
arter fidgeting about a bit with 'is feet went 
up on deck again. 

" 'Strewth," ses Tom, looking round at us. 
" 'Ave we shipped a bloomin' prize-fighter ? " 

" Wot did you call me? " ses Joe, looking 
at 'im. 

" Nothing, mate," ses Tom, drawing back. 

" You keep a quiet tongue in your 'ed," 
ses Joe, " and speak when you're spoken to, 
my lad." 

He was a ordinary seaman, mind, talking 
to A.B.'s like that. Men who'd been up 
aloft and doini their little bit when 'e was 
going about catching cold in 'is little petti- 
cuts. Still, if Bill could stand it, we supposed 
as we'd better. 

Bill stayed up on deck till we was under 
way, and 'is spirit seemed to be broke. He 
went about 'is work like a man wot was 
walking in 'is sleep, and when breakfast come 
'e 'a r dly tasted it. 

Joe made a splendid breakfast, and when 

he'd finished 'e went to Bill's bunk and 

chucked the things out all over the place and 

said 'e was going to 'ave it for himself. And 

Original from 




Bill sat there and took it all quiet, and by- 
and-by he took 'is things up and put them in 
Joe's bunk without a word. 

It was the most peaceful fust day we 'ad 
ever 'ad down that fo'c's'le, Bill usually being 
in 'is tantrums the fust day or two at sea, 
and wanting to know why 'e'd been born. 
If you talked you was noisy and worriting, 
and if you didn't talk you was sulky ; but 
this time 'e sat quite still and didn't interfere 
a bit. It was such a pleasant change that 
we all felt a bit grateful, and at tea-time 
Tom Baker patted Joe on the back and said 
he was one o' the right old sort 

" You've been in a scrap or two in your 
time, I know," he ses, admiring like. " I 
knew you was a bit of a one with your fists 
direckly I see you." 

"Oh, Ws that ?" asks Joe. 

" I could see by your nose," ses Tom. 

You never know how to take people like 
that. The words 'ad 'ardly left Tom's lips 
^fore the other ups with a basin of 'ot tea 
and heaves it all over 4m. 

44 Take that, you insulting rascal," he ses, 
as Tom jumped up spluttering and wiping 'is 
face with his coat. u How dare you insult 

" Get up," ses Tom, dancing with rage. 
" Get up ; prize-fighter or no prize-fighter, 
I'll mark you." 

" Sit down," ses Bill, turning round. 

" I'm going to 'ave a go at 'im, Bill," ses 
Tom ; " if you're afraid of } im, I ain't." 

" Sit down," ses Bill, starting up. " 'Ow 
dare you insult me like that?" 

44 Like wot ?" ses Tom, staring. 

44 If I can't lick im you can't," ses Bill ; 
"that's 'ow it is, mate." 

44 But I can trv," ses Tom. 

44 All right," ses Bill. 44 Me fust, then if 
you lick me, you can 'ave a go at 'im. If 
you can't lick me, 'ow can you lick 'im ? " 

44 Sit down both of you," ses young Joe, 
drinking Bill's tea to make up for 'is own. 
14 And mind you, I'm cock o* this fo'c's'le, and 
don't you forget it. Sit down, both of you, 
afore I start on you." 

They both sat down, but Tom wasn't 
quick enough to please Bill, and he got a 
wipe o' the side o' the 'ead that made it ring 
for an hour afterwards. 

That was the beginning of it, and instead 
of 'aving one master we found we'd got two, 
owing to the eggstrordinry way Bill had o' 
looking at things. He gave Joe best without 
even 'aving a try at him, and if anybody else 
wanted to 'ave a try, it was a insult to BUI. 
We couldn't make 'ed or tail of it, and all we 

by ^C 


could get out of Bill was that 'e had one 
time 'ad a turn-up with Joe Simms ashore, 
which he'd remember all 'is life. It must ha' 
been something of a turn, too, the way Bill 
used to try and curry favour with 'im. 

In about three days our life wasn't worth 
living, and the fo'c's'le was more like a 
Sunday-school class than anything else. In 
the fust place Joe put down swearing. He 
wouldn't 'ave no bad langwidge, he said, and 
he didn't neither. If a man used a bad 
word Joe would pull 'im up the fust time, 
and the second he'd order Bill to 'it 'im, 
being afraid of 'urting 'im too much 'imself. 
'Arf the men 'ad to leave off talking altogether 
when Joe was by, but the way they used to 
swear when he wasn't was something shock- 
ing. Harry Moore got clergyman's sore 
throat one arternoon through it. 

Then Joe objected to us playing cards for 
money, and we 'ad to arrange on the quiet 
that brace buttons was ha'-pennies and coat 
buttons pennies, and that lasted until one 
evening Tom Baker got up and danced and 
nearly went off 'is 'ead with joy through havin' 
won a few dozen. That was enough for Joe, 
and Bill by his orders took the cards and 
pitched 'em over the side. 

Sweet- eartmg and that sort o' thing Joe 
couldn't abear, and Ned Davis put his foot 
into it finely one arternoon through not 
knowing. He was lying in 'is bunk smoking 
and thinking, and by-and-by he looked across 
at Bill, who was 'arf asleep, and 'e ses : — 

44 1 wonder whether you'll see that little 
gal at Melbourne agin this trip, Bill." 

Bills eyes opened wide and he shook 'is 
fist at Ned, as Ned thought, playful-like. 

44 All right, I'm a looking at you, Bill," 'e 
ses. 44 1 can see you." 

44 What gal is that, Ned ? " ses Joe, who was 
in the next bunk to him, and I saw Bill's 
eyes screw up tight, and 'e suddenly fell fast 

44 1 don't know 'er name," ses Ned, 44 but 
she was very much struck on Bill ; they used 
to go to the theayter together." 

44 Pretty gal ? " ses Joe, leading 'im on. 

44 Rather" ses Ned. 4< Trust Bill for that, 
'e always gets the prettiest gal in the place — 
I've known as many as six and seven to " 

44 WOT ! " screams Bill, waking up out of 
'is sleep, and jumping out of 'is bunk. 

41 Keep still, Bill, and don't interfere when 
I'm talking," ses joe, very sharp. 

44 'E's insulted me," ses Bill ; <4 talking 
about gals when everybody knows I 'ate em 
worse than pison." 

" Hold your tongue," ses Joe. " Now, 
Original from 




Ned, what's this about this little ga! ? What's 
'er name ? n 

" 1 1 was only a little joke o* mine/' ses 
Ned, who saw 'e'd put r is foot in it, " Bill 
ates em worse than— worse than — pison." 

" You're telling me a lie," ses foe, sternly. 
"Who was it?" 

11 It was only my fun, Joe/' ses Ned. 

u Oh, very well then. I'm going to "ave a 
bit of fun now," ses Joe. li Bill : " 

" Yes/' ses Bill 

(i I won't 'it Ned myself for fear I shall do 
J im a lusting injury/' ses Joe, " so you just 

was dazed like, struck out wild at Ned and 
missed 'im, and the next moment was 
knocked down agin, We could 'ardly believe 
our eves, and as tor Ned, 'e looked as though 
e'd been doing miracles by mistake. 

When Bill got up the second time 'e was 
that shaky 'e could 'ardly stand, and Ned 
r ad it all is own way, until at last 'e got Bill's 
'ead under 'is arm and punched at it till they 
was both tired. 

41 All right/ 5 ses Bill: "I've 'ad enough. 
I've met my master/' 

" Wait w ses Joe, staring. 

L( the\ joe oi«|Ecrtu to u> playing cakds ko« mowkv.' 

start on 'im and keep on till 'e tells all about 
your goings on with that gal" 

4t Hit 7/// to make im tell about ///<??" ses 
Bill, staring 'is 'ardest. 

" You 'card wot I said, 1 ' ses Joe ; "don't 
repeat my words, You a married man, too ; 
IVe got sisters of my own, and I'm going to 
put this sort o' thing down. If you don't 
down 'im, I will/' 

Ned wasnt much of a fighter, and I ulf 
expected to see 'im do a bolt up on deck 
and complain to the skipper. He did look 
like it for a moment, then he stood up, 
looking a bit white as Bill walked over to 
'im, and the next moment % fist flew out, 
and afore we could turn round I'm blest if 
Bill wasn't on the floor, E gut up as if 'e 

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11 I've met my master/' ses Hill, going and 
sitting down. ** Ned 'as knocked me about 

Joe looked at im speechless, and then 
Without saying another word, or living a go 
at Ned himself, as we expected, *e went up 
on deck, and Ned crossed over and sat down 
by Bill 

u I 'ope I didn't hurt you, mate," he sls, 

u Hurt me?" roars Bill. "You! You 
? urt me? You, you little bag o' bones. 
Wait till I get you ashore by yourself for 
five minits, Ned Davis, and th^n you'll know 
wot 'tilting means." 

" 1 don't understand you, Bill/' ses Ned ; 
"you're a mystery, that's what you are; but 
Original from 




I tell you plain when you go ashore you 
don't have me for a companion." 

It was a mystery to all of us, and it got 
worse and worse as time went on. Bill 
didn't dare to call 'is soul 'is own, although 
Joe only hit 'im once the whole time, and 
then not very hard, and he excused 'is 
cowardice by telling us of a man Joe 'ad 
killed in a fight down in one o' them West- 
end clubs. 

Wot with Joe's Sunday-school ways and 
Bill backing 'em up, we was all pretty glad 
by the time we got to Melbourne. It was 
like getting out o' pris'n to get away from 
Joe for a little while. All but Bill, that is, 
and Joe took 'im to hear a dissolving views 
on John Bunyan. Bill said 'e'd be delighted 
to go, but the language he used about 'im on 
the quiet when he came back showed wot 'e 
thought of it. I don't know who John 
Bunyan is, or wot he's done, but the things 
Bill said about 'im I wouldn't soil my tongue 
by repeating. 

Arter we'd been there two or three days 
we began to feel a'most sorry for Bill. Night 
arter night, when we was ashore, Joe would 
take J im off and look arter 'im, and at last, 
partly for 'is sake, but more to see the fun, 
Tom Baker managed to think o' something 
to put things straight. 

4i You stay aboard to-night, Bill," he ses 
one morning, "and you'll see something 
that'll startle you." 

"Worse than you?" ses Bill, whose temper 
was getting worse and worse. 

" There'll be an end o' that bullying Joe," 
ses Tom, taking 'im by the arm. " We've 
arranged to give 'im a lesson as'll lay 'im 
up for a time." 

" Oh," ses Bill, looking 'ard at a boat wot 
was passing. 

44 We've got Dodgy Pete coming to see us 
to-night," ses Tom, in a whisper; "there'll 
only be the second officer aboard, and he'll 
likely be asleep. Dodgy's one o' the best 
light-weights in Australia, and if 'e don't fix 
up Mister Joe, it'll be a pity." 

44 You're a fair treat, Tom," ses Bill, turn- 
ing round ; 44 that's what you are. A fair 

44 1 thought you'd be pleased, Bill," ses 

44 Pleased ain't no name for it, Tom," 
answers Bill. 44 You've took a load off my 

The fo'c's'le was pretty full that evening, 
everybody giving each other a little grin on 
the quiet, and looking over to where Joe was 
sitting in 'is bunk putting a button or two on 

by Google 

his coat. At about ha'-past six Dodgy 
comes aboard, and the fun begins to com 

He w f as a nasty, low-looking little chap, was 
Dodgy, very fly-looking and very conceited. 
I didn't like the look of 'im at all, and un- 
bearable as Joe was, it didn't seem to be 
quite the sort o' thing to get a chap aboard 
to 'ammer a shipmate you couldn't 'ammer 

44 Nasty stuffy place you've got down 'ere," 
ses Dodgy, who was smoking a big cigar; 44 I 
can't think 'ow you can stick it." 

44 It ain't bad for a fo'c's'le," ses Charlie. 

44 An' what's that in that bunk over there?" 
ses Dodgy, pointing with 'is cigar at Joe. 

44 Hush, be careful," ses Tom, with a wink; 
44 that's a prize-fighter." 

44 Oh," ses Dodgy, grinning, 44 I thought it 
was a monkey." 

You might 'ave heard a pin drop, and 
there was a pleasant feeling went all over us 
at the thought of the little fight we was going 
to see all to ourselves, as Joe lays down the 
jacket he was stitching at and just puts 'is 
little 'ead over the side o' the bunk. 

44 Bill," he ses, yawning. 

44 Well," ses Bill, all on the grin like the 
rest of us. 

44 Who is that 'andsome, gentlemanly-look- 
ing young feller over there smoking a half- 
crown cigar? " ses Joe. 

44 That's a young gent wot's come down to 
'ave a look round,'' ses Tom, as Dodgy takes 
'is cigar out of 'is mouth and looks round, 

44 Wot a terror 'e must be to the gals, with 
them lovely little peepers of 'is," ses Joe, 
shaking 'is 'ead. "Bill!" 

44 Well," ses Bill, agin, as Dodgy got up. 

44 Take that lovely little gentleman and 
kick 'im up the fo'c's'le ladder," strs Joe, 
taking up 'is jacket agin ; 44 and don't make 
too much noise over it, cos I've got a bit of 
a 'ead-ache, else I'd do it myself." 

There was a laugh went all round then, 
and Tom Baker was near killing himself, and 
then I'm blessed if Bill didn't get up and 
begin taking off 'is coat. 

44 Wot's the game ?" ses Dodgy, staring. 

44 I'm obeying orders," ses Bill. 44 Last 
time 1 was in London, Joe 'ere half killed 
me one time, and 'e made me promise to do 
as 'e told me for six months. I'm very sorry, 
mate, but I've got to kick you up that 

44 You kick me up ?" ses Dodgy, with a 
nasty little laugh. 

44 1 can try, mate, can't I?" ses Bill, folding 

Original from 




'is things up very neat and putting f eni on a 

11 Old my cigar," ses Dodgy, taking it out 
of % mouth and sticking it in Charlies. 
" I don't need to take my coat off to "un." 

'E altered 'is mind, though, when he saw 
Bill's chest and arms, and not only took off 
his coat, hut his waistcoat too. Then, with 
a nasty look at Bill, e put up J is fists and 
just pranced up to *iin. 

The fust blow Bill missed, and the next 
moment 'e got a tap on the jaw that nearly 
broke it, and that was followed up by one in 
the eye that sent im staggering up agin the 
side, and when 'e was there Dodgy's fists 
were rattling all round 'im. 

I believe it was that that brought Bill 
round, and the next moment Dodgy was on 
? is back with a blow that nearly knocked 'is 
'ead off. Charlie grabbed at Tom's watch 
and began to count, and after a little hit 
called out "Time/ 1 It was a silly thing to 
do, as it would 'ave stopped the fight then 
and there if it 'ad n't been for Tom's presence 
of mind saying it was two minutes slow. 
That gave Dodgy a chance, and he got up 
again and walked round Bill very careful, 
swearing 'ard at the small size of the fo'cVle. 

He got in three or four at Bill afore you 

by Google 

could wink a'most, and when Bill 'it back *e 
wasn't there. That seemed to annoy Bill 
more than anything, and he suddenly flung 
out 'is arms, and grabbing old of 'un flung 
'im right across the fo'c's'le to where, fortu- 
nately for 'mi -Dodgy, I mean — Tom Baker 
was sitting. 

Charlie called "lime 11 again, and we let 
T em J ave five minutes while we 'elped Tom to 
bed, and then wot : e called the ''disgusting 
exhihishun "' was resoomed. Bill 'ad dipped 
'is face in a bucket and 'ad rubbed f is great 
arms all over and was as fresh as a daisy. 
Dodgy looked a bit tottery, but 'e was game 
all through and very careful, and, try as Bill 
might, he didn't seem to be able to get 'old 
of im agin. 

In five minutes more, though, it was all 
over, Dodgy not being able to see plain 
except to gel out o' Bill's way- and hitting 
wild. He seemed to think the whole focVIe 
was full o* Bills sitting on a tocker and wait- 
ing to be punched, and the end of it was a 
knock out blow from the real Bill which left 
'im on the. floor without a soul offering to 
pick 'irn up. 

Bill Vlped un up at last and shook hands 
with "im, and they rinsed their faces in the 
same bucket, and began to praise each other 
Original from 




up. They sat there purring like a couple o* 
cats, until at last we card a smothered voice 
coming from Joe Simms's bunk. 

" Is it all over ? " he asks, 

" Yes/* ses somebody. 

" How is Bill ?*' ses Joe's voice again. 

" Look for yourself/' ses Tom. 

"Mighty AfosesS" ses Dodgy Pete, jump- 
ing up, ft it's a woman ! " 

"It's my zt7>/"ses Bill 

We understood it all then, leastways the 
married ones among us did. She'd shipped 
aboard partly to be with Bill and partly to 
keep an eye on 1m, and Tom Baker's 


Joe sat up in 'is bunk then and looked 
out, and he no sooner saw Bills face than he 
gave a loud cry and fell back agin, and, as 
true as I'm sitting here, tain Led clean away. 
We was struck all of a cap, and then Bill 
picked up the bucket and threw some water 
over 'im, and by-and-by he comes round agin 
and in a dazed sort o 1 way puts his arm round 
Bill's neck and begins to cry, 

mistake about a prize-fighter had just suited 
'er book better than anything. How Bill 
was to get 'er home e couldn't think, but it 
? appened the second officer had been peeping 
down the foe Vie, waiting for ever so long 
for a suitable opportunity to stop the fight, 
and the old man was so tickled about the way 
we VI all been done he gave 'er a passage 
back as stewardess to look arter the ship's cat. 

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Original from 

The Worlds Cathedrals in Miniature. 

By Albert H, Broadwell. 

i ■' Mh'-i. 

HE Free Library of Putney con- marvellous ingenuity, after the masterpieces 
tains at the present moment an or (he greatest architects that the wurld 
£^-| attraction which may fairly be has hitherto produced. U'u <>aid almost 
described as one 
of the marvels of 
age, in the shape of the 
temporary exhibition of an 
almost unique set of minia- 
ture models of British and 
foreign cathedrals, reproduced 
with the greatest skill and 
accuracy and modelled with 

Vvl. xx. 


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unique, because there is another set 
of these beautiful u monuments of 
patience/' as they may well be 
called, in the possession of the 
celebrated musician and veteran, 
Sir Herbert Oakeley, musical com- 
poser to Her Majesty in Scotland. 
The set on view at Putney belongs 
to Sir George Newnes, Bart. 

The models are well worth atten- 
tive study. The writer has spent 
no inconsiderable amount of his 
Original from 





leisure time in dissecting, 
as it were, the marvellous 
amount of detail which 
goes to make up the col- 
lection, and his experience 
has been that a fascination 
grows upon the visitor in 
the examination of these 
miracles of ingenuity and 

It has been a matter of 
extreme difficulty to gather 

works, mostly of an intensely religious 
character, have very naturally trained 
his mind to matters connected with 
churches and cathedrals the world 
over ; it seems, therefore, to follow as 
a natural consequence that he should 
haw taken somewhat more than a 
casual interest in 
the models of 
buildings where- 
in most of his 
master pieces 
have found an 
echo. As a matter 
of fact, Sir Her- 
bert said that, in 


the course of his travels, whenever 
he came within reasonable distance 
of a well-known cathedral or 
church, he promptly took a holi- 
day and paid a visit to the build- 
ing in question and investigated 
all its architectural beauties to the 
fullest extent. Apart from the 
collection of models, Sir Herbert 
owns an extraordinary collect ion of 
prints and also of paintings of 

details about the construction of 
these works of art, inasmuch as 
the maker, Mr. W. Gorringe, archi- 
tectural modeller, late of Hales 
Road, Cheltenham, passed away 
somewhere in the eighties ; hut Sir 
Herbert Oakeley, the owner of the 
original set, very kindly allowed us 
to interview him on the subject, for 
he is practically the originator of 
the main idea which led to the 
gradual construction of the models 
under notice. 

Sir Herbert's well-known musical 






were required to make these 
replicas to scale—for let us 
add all the models are 
made to scale to their 
minutest detail ; and Sir 
Herbert became so inter- 
ested that he lent his aid 
by furnishing Mr. Gorringe 


many of the world s cathedrals, and 
\m devotion to the subject is 
clearly shown by the way in which 
he treasures his collection almost 
Dfld anything in his possession ; 
he is, moreover, so anxious for 
its future welfare that we under- 
stand it to be his wish to dispose 
of it, on condition that the col- 
lection be kept intact by their new 

It appears that Mr. Gorringe 
made Sir Herbert's acquaintance 
at a very early stage of his under- 
taking the modelling, in specially 
prepared cardboard, of the best known cathe- 
drals of the world, and this is where Sir 
Herbert's assistance came in. Mr. Gorringe 
had not at his command the necessary docu- 
ments, plans, elevations, and designs which 

with all the important documents which were 
necessary for the accomplishment of his 
arduous undertaking— an undertaking which 
took over twenty-five years to complete ! 
Space will not allow us to enter into a 

by dc 


Original from 



will show how much care has 
been given to the accurate repro- 
duction of nearly all the details 
of the well-known Piazza de 
SiinUi Pktro, which faces the 
building, and is truly worthy of 
Lhe largest, grandest, and most 

detailed account of every model 
shown in the illustrations which 
accompany this article, but we 
may well refer to some of the 
pri n c i pa I cathedrals a n d g i ve 
a few details of the buildings 
they represent, though space 
again has not allowed us to 
reproduce all the models which 
make up the whole collection. 

Sir Herbert Oakeley favoured 
us with a photograph of models of St. Peter's 
and St, Paul's, showing their proportion to 
each other, which, owing to its being exceed- 
ingly faded, was not suitable for reproduction 


famous church in the world. This space, 
as will be seen in the miniature, is con- 
siderable, and in its natural size is 366yds. 
long and 260yds* wide. The pavement 
alone, which is accurately reproduced, 
cost ^£35,000 ; the whole of the piazza, 
which is in the form of an ellipse, 
inclosed by huge colonnades, cost 
,£184,000; and the entire structure, 
including St. Peter's, a bout ten millions 
Sterling ! It seems an enormous task 
to undertake the reproduction on so 
small a scale of a work that has taxed 
the powers of a Raphael, a Michael 
An^elo, and a Bernini, yet there is 
no douht that nowhere in the world 
can a model showing more accuracy 

here ; but it showed how 
easy it would be, due allow- 
ances being granted, to 
take the whole of St. Paul's 
and put it under the dome 
of St Peter's without the 
ball and cross being in any 
way interfered with. 

We give respective re- 
productions of these famous 
buildings, which, especially 
in the case of 6u Peter's, 

Digitized by Google 






Among the Continental 
cathedrals famous now the 
world over we find a 
splendid reproduction of 
the Cathedral of Antwerp, 
which has probably been 
sketched and painted more 
often than any. It is 
certainly worthy of its 
popularity among artists 
of all nations. It was 
begun in the middle of 
the thirteenth century, and 
took no less than eighty- 
four years to construct, 
having a superficial area 

of detail and proportion be seen as 
in this marvellous handiwork of Mr. 

To students of architectural design, 
both ancient and modern, these com- 
parisons, as drawn here for the first 
time, cannot fail to be extremely inter- 
esting. To the refined taste of the 
artist these photographs of buildings 
which he no doubt has loved to sketch 
and paint over and over again will 
recall many a pleasant hour, and to 
the religious mind they are certain to 
appeal in their beauty of design— in 
their nobleness of structure so truly 
worthy of the House of God. 



of 70,060ft., six aisles, and 
a lower 402ft, high. Any- 
one who cares to climb 514 
sleps may reach the first 
gallerv. and another 102 
lend to the second and 
highest, It may be ob- 
served that in the model 
these galleries are most 
faithfully reproduced, and 
it is astounding to think 
what labour, patience, and 
skill must have been ex- 
pended In reproducing so 
stupendous a structure on 
so small a scale and so 
faithfully withal. 

Notre Dame de Paris 
is another cathedral well 
known to Englishmen, and 
the reproduction shown here 
will enable them to judge 
of the wonderful accuracy 
displayed in the various 
details of this magnificent 




building ; the small ness of the re- 
prod uction, however does not allow 
us to do justice to the magnificent 
frontage, which in the model has 
been reproduced with in Unite pains 
and labour. 

Again , observe particularly the 
model of Milan Cathedral. Milanese 
consider it to be the eighth wonder 
of the world, and it certainly is, 
after St. Peter's at Rome and the 
Cathedral at Seville, the largest 


2,ooo statues. The stained- 
glass window of the choir, 
by tlie way, is the largest 
in the win Id. 

There are models also 
of the well-known Cathe- 
dral at Rouen and the 
noble building which has 
made Amiens famous. 
Amiens Cathedral, it is 
interesting to note, was 
commenced in 1220 and 
finished in 1288 j it is 

church in Christendom. 
This huge structure, of 
which the tiny model does 
infinite credit to its con- 
structor, has been styled 
the most perfectly hcanti 
ful building in the world. 
It is built entirely of white 
marble, and covers an area 
of 14,000 square yards, 
in which square 2,400 
square yards are taken 
up by pillars and walls. 
Externally the cathedral 
looks too beautifully fragile 
to be real, with its ninety- 
eight turrets and forest of 
lesser spires, among which 
are placed upwards of 

3 y Google 

w<TTcrinai irom 




470ft. long, and is 213ft. wide acrcss the 
transepts* The slender spire so beauti- 
fully reproduced by Mr Gorrinye in the 
model shown here is 360ft. high in the 

Then there is the Reauvais Cathedral, 
a Gothic building of great beauty, which, 
by the way, was commenced about 1225, 

and the choir of which is said to be the 

loftiest in the world, 

rising 153ft. from 

floor to ceiling. 
The Vienna and 

Cologne Cathedrals 

are equally well 

known. The latter 

justly excites the 

admiration of every 

beholder, and is 

probably the most 

magnificent Gothic 

building in the world. It 
stands on a slight eminence 
about sixty feet above the 
Rhine, There is a deal of 
romance connected with 
the building of this famous 
cathedral, but space will 
only allow of a few details, 
which, however, will find 
additional interest inas- 
much as the tower so 
faithfully reproduced in 
the miniature replica is 
512ft, high, and boasts of 
the proud distinction as 
the loftiest church tower in 
Europe. The foundations 
were laid in 1248, but the 

rate of progress was phenomenally 
slow, owing to sundry bickerings 
that arose between l he Archbishop 
and the citizens. In 1 796 it was 
converted into a hay magazine by 
the French, who also stripped the 
lead from the roof! The work of 
renovation was, however, com- 
menced in 1823, and between 1842 
and 1880 no less than ^900,000 
was spent on the edifice, Another 
interesting item, which will probably 
tome as a revelation to many, is 
thai no fewer than twenty-eight men 
are required to ring the 25-con bell 
in the south tower. 


ay LiOOgLC 




Among the best-known cathedrals in 
our own bland Canterbury stands wtll to 
the front. The Metropolitan Cathedral 
as it is often called, owes its enthralling 
interest to its vastness of scale, its wealth 
of monuments, its treasures of earl) glass, 
the great historical scenes that have been 
enacted within its walls —above all, to 
the greatest of all historical tragedies to 
the mind of the mediaeval Englishman, 
the murder of 
Becket. In our 
replica lovers of the 
grand old 

problem which Sir 
Herbert Oak e ley and 
Mr. Gorringe must 
have taken infinite pains 
to solve and verify 
beyond doubt. 

Durham, Chichester, 
Hereford T Lichfield, 
Ely, Chester, Norwich, 
Wells, and a host of 

other well-known sacred 
buildings are to be seen, and 
as space will not permit us to 
particularize any further, we 
cannot do better than to re- 
commend those of our readers 
who are interested in the subject 
to pay a visit to the Putney Free 
Library, where these marvellous 
examples of patience and pains- 
taking workmanship are on view. 

will readily recognise its 
transepts, its turrets, and 
its pinnacles, 

Lincoln Cathedral, noted 
among other things for its 
choir screen of charming 
design, is well reproduced. 
Salisbury Cathedral, whose 
spire is no less than 404ft., 
and which by that faci is 
the highest cathedral in 
England, is also done 
justice to, and one 
wonders how long it must 
have taken to reduce every 
detail of the model to 
scale, a mathematical 

by di 



Original from 

By Walter Ragge* 

commonly known as ** Dirty 
Dick,' 1 had made a new start 
in life. For the last three 
years he had earned his daily 
beer by doing odd jobs for 
such citizens as needed an unskilled painter. 
This honourable, but scarcely lucrative, pro- 
fession was now closed to him. He had 
never loved his work : he had a distaste for 
that great system of co-operation that is so 
marked a feature at the present day. In his 
own words, 41 he didn't want no bloomin' 
master nor yet no bloomin' pals, He 
wanted to work on 'is own*" Nevertheless, 
he remembered with pride that in the words 
of the judge, who addressed him from the 
Bench, he had li for the last three years 
followed a most respectable calling." 

Richard had described himself as a "tar- 
ma^" and the judge had entered him on his 
notes as a "carman," and was labouring 
under this trifling misapprehension when he 
addressed the prisoner before sentencing him 
to six months 1 hard labour for an aggravated 
assault on one of his employers. 

The six months were over now, but 
Richard felt tha_ this most respectable 
calling must of necessity be closed to an 
ex-convict* He had, therefore, chosen 
another, that would enable him to gratify 
hia |>assion for independent work* He was 
no* about to enter upon this new profession. 
It was an important step, and Richard was 

Vol. xju— 7- 

Digitized by CjOOOIc 

too shrewd a man to take it hastily. He 
had made the usual inquiries, and had 
satisfied himself that "The Cedars" was in 
every 'way a most suitable house for a 
beginner* In the first place, there was 
no dog ; secondly, the master of the house 
was in South Africa, leaving his wife at 
home ; thirdly, two of the three servants 
were absent ; fourthly, there was a most 
tempting little balcony over the hall -door ; 
and last, but not least, there was not another 
house within a mile, Richard looked regret- 
fully at his new and shining tools which had 
cost him nearly his last penny ; they would 
be almost useless in a case like this ; still, 
perhaps it was best to begin with an easy 
job* Even a burglar cannot expect to spring 
into fame and wealth at once. 

He slipped over the low wall, crossed the 
well-kept lawn, and halted a little to the right 
of the porch. He arranged the various 
bags for the carriage of tools and booty 
picturesquely about his person, and started to 
climb the trellis-work against the house. 
He reached the little balcony and stepped 
cautiously on to it* There were two windows 
opening on to it : one a French window, 
which was closed ; the other, an ordinary 
respectable British window, which was 
slightly open. 

The artist in Richard was aw T ake that 

night — any casual amateur could enter a 

house by an open window : it was a burglar's 

business to break in — silently, skilfully, no 

Original from 




doubt, but still to break in. He turned to 
the French window and tried his new tools 
on it, one after the other. He burrowed 
into the wood like an ant, but the window 
was no more open at the end of his work 
than it had been at the beginning. There 
was a little sawdust on the balcony, and that 
was all. Richard looked again at the open 
window and pondered. The room was a 
bedroom, he knew, because when he had 
examined the house in the morning he had 
noticed the back of a looking-glass at the 
window. In Richard's philosophy an open 
window meant an empty bedroom ; he never 
slept with a bloomin' wind blowing at him, 
not he ; but perhaps some folks were fools 
enough to like it. Then, again, it might be 
a trap. He tried to peer into the room, but 
heavy curtains obstructed the view. .- At last, 
with infinite care, he put his hand through 
the opening and moved one of the curtains 
slightly. The room was nearly dark, but 
not quite. It seemed to him there must be 
a light of some kind in it, but he couldn't 
make out where it was. Then there came 
to his ears a sound— ^a familiar sound, that 
carried him back to the days of his innocent 
childhood and his father's room in Brigson's 
Buildings, E. It was a snore ; a good, un- 
compromising British snore. 

A figure crossed his field of vision, with 
swift, silent steps. There was a gurgling 
sound and then a cry. " Oh, lor, mum, how 
you startled me !" " Hush, hush, for God's 
sake!" said another voice, in a hissing 
whisper ; " you'll wake him — you were 

"Well, mum, and if I was — Fm that 
tired " 

" Be quiet, be quiet, I tell you." Then a 
third voice joined in, a feeble, wailing voice. 
" Mother," it cried, " mother, it hurts me — ^ 
oh, it does hurt me so." 

That was enough for Richard ; he wasn't 
going to intrude where he wasn't wanted. It 
was quite a little family party in that room. 
The mistress of the house was there and her 
little son, and the housemaid — the only 
servant at home that night. It was the 
housemaid that had snored and then called 
out He knew her voice; he had thought 
of trying to get her to help at one time, but, 
true to his rule of having no pals, he had 
abandoned the idea. Well, then, these were 
the points to consider : First, the other 
rooms must be empty. That was good. 
Secondly, all the three occupants of the 
house were awake. That was bad. Should 
he go down again and try to get in on the 

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ground-floor, or should he climb up the 
trellis-work to another window ? 

He decided on the latter course. The 
ground-floor windows would have shutters; 
besides, the people might go down to the 
kitchen to get drinks for the boy or some- 
thing. What was all the good of his climbing 
as a painter if he couldn't climb now ? He 
re-adjusted his discredited tools, swung him- 
self off the balcony, and started to go up the 
trellis-work to the next window. 

In all the weary months since that sad 
November morning, when she saw the ship 
that bore her husband and his comrades 
thrashing its way seaward through the fog, 
Mrs. Thorburn had never felt her loss so 
keenly as she did this night. She had sent 
her husband to his duty with a smiling face; 
she had braced her nerves to bear the dread- 
ful strain of waiting, braced herself even to 
hear the news of that glorious tragedy, 
" Killed in action," that might come to strike 
her heart at any moment. She was proud to 
be a soldier's wife. But this night — how 
she longed to have him back, at all costs 
to his country, to his honour, to have him 
with her now. For their son, their only 
son, was ill, seized in the grip of one of 
those sudden sicknesses that mothers kndw 
so well. 

The nearest doctor lived two miles away, 
she had no neighbours, and there was no one 
in the house but the housemaid, Jane. Jane 
had been dispatched for the doctor — had 
gone and found him not at home, and, with 
a literal obedience worthy of the British 
Army, had returned leaving no name or 
message because she had had no orders to 
do so. The boy appeared to grow eisier — 
he was sleeping when Jane returned, and 
Mrs. Thorburn watching by the bed was less 
anxious now. She made Jane sit in the 
chair near the fire to be ready for any 
emergency. The snore that Richard heard 
had awakened the boy — he was in pain, 
restless, calling to his mother, and now and 
again wringing that mother's heart by crying, 
" Father, father." The cries grew more 
piteous, the child seemed weaker. " Jane," 
she whispered, "you must go again. Dr. 
Dean must be in now— go, and bring him 
back with you. If he is not in, go to the 
Bell, ring them up, and make Mr. Jones 
drive you into Leamington. Be quick." 

" I can't, mum," was the answer. 

" You must. I cannot leave the boy now. 
Please, please go — for the boy's sake, Jane, 
go, and go quickly." 

Original from 




"Tm that tired, mum, I'll drop by the 

"Go to the nearest house, then. Go and 
tell them to fetch the doctor. Oh, can't you 
see how ill he is ? " 

Jane rose slowly and with many groans 
proceeded to the door. " Well, mum, since 
you will 'ave it, HI go 
and put on my things/' 

"Things ! Take my 
cloak — and Captain 

Thorburn 's cap " 

Jane drew herself up, 
"No, mum," she said, 
haughtily ; "if I must 
hintrude on people in 
the dead of night, 
I'll do it in my 

"Quick, then. 
Where is your 
hat?" S 

" Upstairs, mum, 
in my room, which 
I laid it there when 
I come in just now, 
mum. I'm to go 
to Plummer^s, 

" Yes, that is the 
nearest. Tell him 
to bring Dr. Dean 
here ; and if he is 
not in, to go on to 
Leamington and 
fetch the first 

doctor he can find. And, Jane if you meet 
a man on the road near here bring him back 
and make him put the bridle on Jeremy and 
ride him." 

"There ain't no saddle, mum," 
"Never mind ; do as I tell you." 
"The cart's gone to he mended, mum," 
" I know it has. Oh, don't stand talking 
here, Jane ; go at once. Please go at once + " 
" *Ave you got the key of the stable, 
mum ? " 

" Yes, it's in my room, on the mantel- 
piece/ 1 

" Yes, mum. And I'm to tell Plummer 
to come back here and fetch Jeremy?" 

" No, no, not Plummer — if you get to 
Plummets tell him to start at once — but if 

you meet a man near here " 

U A strange man, mum? Oh, I couldn't, 
mum/ 1 

The boy had hold of Mrs. Thorburn's 
hands ; she could not move : if she had 
been free, no sense of dignity could have 

saved her from personally assaulting the 
respectable Jane. The fit passed, 4t Go, 
please," she said, quietly. u Go to Plummer 
and tell him to he quicL" 

Jane turned and left the room, banging 

the door behind her to prove that she was a 

free woman and no slave, Mrs. Thorburn 

gently drew one of her 

hands from the child's 

feverish clasp and laid it 

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on his forehead. The soft, cool touch 
seemed to soothe him ; the poor, frightened 
eyes closed ; the quick, painful panting 
ceased— he was falling asleep. Suddenly, 
from the room overhead, came a wild scream 
that ran along the mother's nerves like a 
flame of fire, making the grasp of her right 
hand suddenly tighten on the slender little 
fingers that It held. The scream was followed 
by another and another — then came a rush 
of feet, the door flew open, and Jane pitched 
headlong in. The little boy was awake now 
and crying, and Mrs. Thorburn ran to the 
grovelling, twisting, screeching mass of 
drapery on the floor. 

44 Get up, " she cried, "you miserable fool, 
get up." Jane got up, still screeching, with 
wide-open mouth, and staring eyes like a 
fresh-caught cod. Her mistress seized her by 
the shoulder. " Be quiet," she said, fiercely ; 
" be quiet, or I'll kill you," 

Jane flopped down on 
" Burgulars," she wailed. 

Original from 


the floor again. 
"Bub — bub— 




burgulars. There's a m — man in my 

" You wretched coward," said Mrs. Thor- 
burn ; " a man ! It was the shadow of the 
curtain. Get up, I tell you ; get up and go 
at once. You might have killed the child." 

It was useless. Jane's screams subsided, 
but the slack mouth was still open, the vacant 
eyes still staring, while a ceaseless babble of 
words poured forth as she lay sack-like on the 
floor : " Burgulars — burgulars— burgulars ! " 

The child's cries smote upon its mother's 
heart. What could she do ? Her only mes- 
senger was useless now, changed by the 
flickering of a shadow on the wall into a 
maundering idiot. In God's name, what 
could she do? 

Suddenly she heard a step, a heavy step, 
upon the upper staircase. Someone was 
there then, after all. She stood still, listen- 
ing, listening. Yes, there it was again. The 
woman on the floor raised her head — she had 
. heard it too. " He's coming," she screamed, 
and went off into a paroxysm of whooping 
hysteria. But she was right. He, whoever 
he might be, was coming down the stairs. 

Richard had found little difficulty in open- 
ing the window to which he had climbed. 
An ordinary, every-day clasp-knife did the 
business ; he had not yet recovered his trust 
in the tools that failed him so lamentably on 
the balcony. It was a large room that he 
had entered— large, and rather untidy. He 
examined every corner of it with his lantern : 
there was no one there, of course ; he knew 
that, but it disappointed him to find that 
there was nothing worth taking there either. 
There were two beds, two dressing-tables, 
four chairs, two wash-hand stands, everything 
plain but good. Obviously, he was in the 
servants' bedroom. Well, there might be a 
shilling or two to pick up even there. He 
swept the bull's-eye lantern round once more: 
there was a curtain with pegs for dresses 
behind it. His inventory was cut suddenly 
short : a door banged somewhere below, and 
he heard steps coming upstairs. He hurriedly 
shaded the lantern, and dashed for the 
curtain, learning something of his trade as he 
did so. Always dash for the curtain first and 
shade your lantern afterwards. Richard 
caught his foot an awful crack against the bed 
in passing ; he was wearing light gymnasium 
shoes, so that the pain was considerable. He 
kept his thoughts inside his teeth, however, 
and waited. The door of the room opened. 
" It's the housemaid," he thought. " She'll 
only have a candle. She won't see me." 

by Google 

There was a click, and the room was 
suddenly flooded with light. It struck 
Richard that it was almost indecent for 
people who lived in a house of this kind to 
have electric light in the servants' bedroom. 
However, he said nothing, but waited quietly 
behind the curtain. Jane entered. Richard 
knew Jane by sight, for, as has been already 
mentioned, he had thought of taking her 
into his confidence. " If she finds me, it 
won't do any harm to make a pal of her 
now," he thought, secure in the power of his 
own attractions. Jane was muttering to 
herself ; she picked a hat up from the bed 
and adjusted it carefully at one of the 
looking-glasses. Then she turned and came 
slowly and deliberately towards the curtain. 
Her muttering was audible now. "The fuss 
she makes about that squalling brat," she 
said, and drew the curtain savagely aside. 
Richard had determined on a policy of 
ingratiation : he stood stock-still and moved 
nothing but his mouth. This wore a fascinat- 
ing grin. Perhaps the light was bad, perhaps 
the fascination was overdone. Let the cause 
be what it may, the effect was terrible. 
Jane sprang back with a frightful screech, 
turned, screeched again, and then fled wildly 
from the room, leaving the unsuccessful 
Lothario still standing by the pegs. 

" When love rejected turns to hate " 
there's sure to be trouble, as the poet truly 
says, and Richard was angry. His self- 
respect had been sorely hurt : his plan had 
failed. His vanity was in even worse plight : 
he had smiled upon a woman, and she had 
started back and screamed as if he were 
a toad. The screams were still plainly 
audible : there was no need for conceal- 
ment now. Since love had failed, he must 
try what terror could do. He would 
go down — scare the women out of their 
lives, make them give up what they had 
in the way of valuables, and then decamp. 
It was too late to go back now. He had 
been seen —possibly recognised ; he might 
as well get something for his pains. He 
strode firmly to the door and descended the 
stairs, planting each foot heavily, to strike 
awe into the hearts of those below. He was 
guided by Jane's screams to the sick room ; 
the door was open, and just as he reached it 
the electric light was turned on. All the 
better ; it was no time for concealment now : 
the light would show these women that he 
held a pistol in his hand. He strode into 
the room, holding his bag of tools in one 
hand and his new cheap revolver in the 
other. He glanced round. Jane was still 




grovelling on the floor, the little boy had 
raised himself in bed ; his mother stood near 
him* The eyes of all three were fixed on 
Richard's face. He advanced another step : 
slow and inexorable as fate* It was most 
effective, Jane dropped her head on the 
floor again ; the boy seized his mother's 
hand and began to cry ; only Mrs. Thorburn 
was unmoved. t( Well, sir," she said, "what 
do you want here ? " 

this ? 

'well, sije/ she smd, 'what t>o vou want herf. 

Richard made an effort, and produced a 
voice from somewhere in the lower region 
of his waistcoat — a voice hoarse and hollow 
— the voice of the Adelphi murderer. 

u What do I want ? " he said ; ** I wants 
yer jewels and yer money, and if yer don't 
f and 'em over quick, I want's yer life*" 

The voice was rather cracked and weak 
towards the end of this long sentence, but 
on the whole it was an admirable perform- 
ance. Mrs, Thorburn looked at him in 
silence — Richard did not understand or like 
her attitude — he was gathering himself 
together for another effort, when she spoke. 

Digitized by OOOS Ic 

41 You have come here," she said, slowly, 
" because you knew that Captain Thorburn 
was away in Africa — because you knew that 
there was no one in the house but two women 
and a little boy* And you are a man — an 
Englishman ! You coward, you miserable, 
dastardly coward ! " 

He stood before her like a stopped clock : 
what was a man to do with a woman like 
He said nothing. There was no sound 
in the room but the gurgling of Jane 
upon the floor and the cries of the 
little boy in the bed* These cries 
muU Icn ly ceased, there was a choking 
sob, and then silence. Mrs. Thorburn 
turned to the bed : her son's head had 
fallen hack on the pillow — he had 
fainted. She dashed to the cup- 
board, fetched a little bottle, and 
moistened the boy's lips with the 
contents* A little coloui 
came into his cheeks, his 
eyes opened, and he 
began to moan. Jane was 
still gurgling on the floor, 
while Richard watched the 
scene with vacant eyes- 
The rules of burglary as 
he knew them did not 
deal with cases such as 
this* Sudden ly t h e mo i her 
turned towards him, 
" Man/' she cried, " he's 
dving: go, go ; run to Dr* 

11 Dr. Dean ! " repeated 
Richard, foolishly. 

"Yes, yes, at Shelton 
—the first house in the 
village ; run, man, run. 
He's dying ! Oh, can't 
you see he's dying ? n 

Richard turned, dropped 
his bag of tools upon the 
floor, and was out of the 
room and down the stairs in three strides, 
had unchained and opened the front door, 
and was running down the road to Shelton 
before his brain began to work* He had 
gone nearly a quarter of a mile before it 
struck him that this was not strictly burglary- 
He slackened his speed for a moment Then, 
" That's a fine woman ! " he said, aloud ; 
u a bloomin' fine woman/' and this thought 
occupied his mind for another mile or more, 
He was only half a mile from Shelton when 
he noticed a cottage by the side of the road 
— noticed the gate of that cottage anfl a 
bicycle gleaming in the moonlight by the 
Original from 




side of the gate. He stopped, his head 
buzzing and thumping from the unaccus- 
tomed exercise. Here was a bicycle — he'd 
go quicker on a bicycle, not that he was 
much of a dab at it ; but still —he seized the 
machine and t dragging it into the middle of 
the road, essayed to mount. Suddenly a 
large nmn came running to the gate, flung it 
open, and rushed towards Richard. U'ith a 
last frantic effort the burglar sprang into the 
saddle, wobbled wildly for three yards, and 
crashed into the ditch. He struggled to his 
feet, trampling the bicycle into spillikins as 
he did so, and started to run, but the large 
man was too quick for him. 

"Stop, you scoundrel," he shouted, and 
seized him by the collar, Richard wrenched 
himself free, and the two men faced one 
another in the moonlight No sound came 
from the cottage. 

" What are you playing at ? " 
said the large man, edging 
gradually nearer, 

" PlayirV at," said Richard ; 
"playin' at? I'm fetchin* a 
doctor, 31 

The large man stood still 
" A doctor ? " said he. " Who 
wants a doctor? Where do 
you come from ? w 

"The Cedars," said Richard, 
with a happy flash of memory. 

"The Cedars? Mrs, 
Thorbum ? Are you her 
man ? ;J 

41 Yus," said Richard, 

"Very good/* said the large 
man; "and whom were you 
going to fetch?" 

"Dr. Dean," was the 

" Do you know him?" 

" Yus." 

The large man moved 
another step nearer. " Now, 
my man," said he, cheerfully, 
"you will kindly come along 
with me* If you come quietly 
it will be all the better for you, 
but I'm afraid I must give you 
in charge. Don't move, now." 

" What for ? " said Richard, angrily. 
goin 1 for a doctor, I tell J ee." 

" Yes, you've told me quite enough 
say you're Mrs. TborbunVs man 
Thorburn ? s man is lying ill in that cottage. 
You say you know Dr. Dean- well, I am 
Dr, Dean. And, now, will you come 
quietly ? " 

H You are Dr. Dean ? " said Richard, 

" Yes, I am Dr. Dean, very much at your 
service, and a magistrate as well as a doctor, 
my friend." 

"Then, if you're Dr. Dean, you come 
along to The Cedars," 

11 No, no ; you come along to Shelton," 

" Kut I tell ee you're wanted." 

"And I tell you, you're wanted. Now, no 
nonsense, my man ; come along with me 

Richard leaped back and drew his revolver, 
*' Look 3 ere," he said, fiercely; "you come 
buck with me, or I'll blow your brains out. 
The boy s dyip\ I tell *ee." 

The doctor had gathered himself together 
for a spring ; but at these w r ords he started. 
"The boy? "he said. 

" I'm 


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"Yus, the boy." 

" Well," said Dr. Dean, after a pause, " you 
seem to know something of the family, I'll 
come with you; but give me that pistol — not 
necessarily for publication, but as a guarantee 
of good faith." ■* 

" Danged if I will/' said Richard. 

" Then I won't come/' said the doctor, 




* Then 111 blow your brains out," repeated 
Richard, weakly. 

" Much good I should be then,*' said Dr. 

This point of view was new to Richard : 
he pondered for a moment, then " 'Ere's the 
bloomin' pistol," he said; "and now come 

" By Jove, you're speaking the truth after 
all, or you're cleverer than you look," said 
the doctor, pocketing the weapon. " Come 
on, we'll have to run for it ; you've smashed 
my bicycle, confound you. I think IVe got 
everything in this bag that will be necessary. 
Come on," and they started to run side by 
side along the lonely road. 

The doctor was in better training than 
Richard — he reached " The Cedars " fit and 
cool ; the burglar, who it must be admitted 
had run the distance twice at full speed, 
was almost at the last gasp. Mrs. Thorburn 
was at the window over the porch. 

" Is that you, Dr. Dean ? " she cried, 

" It is, madam," said the doctor ; " you 
want me?" 

" Yes, yes ; come upstairs at once," and 
she disappeared. The doctor turned and 
looked at his companion critically. "You 
told the truth," he said. " I beg your pardon. 
You had better come in and sit down ; you 
seem fatigued. I will leave the front door 
open, so that if you feel in need of a walk " 
— he paused, and then, with meaning, " you 
can take your hook." 

Richard followed him blindly through the 
hall and sat heavily down at the foot of the 
stairs. The doctor ran lightly up to the 
front room and entered. Richard could 
hear the faint sound of their talk in spite of 
the buzzing in his weary head. He was not 
conscious of any consecutive train of thought, 
but he found himself at last repeating over 
and oyer again, " I wonder 'ow the little 
varmint is ? " He rose and walked unsteadily 
upstairs ; he went on tip-toe to the door and 
peered in. The boy was awake, but quiet, 
and evidently not in pain. Jane had gone. 
Mrs. Thorburn and the doctor were talking 
together at the foot of the bed, and there in 
the middle of the room lay his bag with the 
tell-tale tools partially exposed. He formed 
a plan : he would switch off the electric light, 
rush in, seize the bag, and be off through the 
open door to rest and plan another more 
successful burglary. Stealthily he stretched 
forth his hand ; the boy sat up in the bed ; 
he was detected. He hurriedly struck down 
one of the two knobs and dashed forward 
into the room. It was only another error. 


No darkness came ; on the contrary, a 
second light sprang into being above the 
bed. Richard stood irresolute, hopeless, in 
the middle of the room, hanging his head, 
as the doctor and Mrs. Thorburn turned 
towards him. There was a pause; then the 
doctor stepped forward. 

" Aha ! " said he, " there is your messenger : 
come to see the patient, I suppose ? Well, I 
can satisfy your anxiety — the patient is doing 
well. Do you know this worthy person, 
Mrs. Thorburn ? " 

The mother looked long at the man. 
"Yes," she said, at last ; " I know him." 

" He said he was working for you ; is that 

" Yes." 

The doctor paused, looking first at the 
woman, then at the miserable man. " Are 
those the tools he works with ? " he said, care- 
lessly, picking up the bag from the floor. 

" I — I suppose so." 

" You find him a faithful servant, I hope ? " 
' "Yes." 

The doctor laughed. " I thought so," he 
said ; " so faithful that he threatened to 
shoot me if I wouldn't come to see your boy. 
Perhaps you'd like to speak to him. I'll just 
go and see how the housemaid is getting on. 
I'll be back directly," and he left the room. 

Mrs. Thorburn advanced quickly to the 
unsuccessful burglar. 

" I thank you from my heart," she said. 
" You have been a good friend to me and 
to my boy to-night," and she held out her 

Richard took it, blinking miserably. She 
looked at him for a moment, and then, " You 
heard what I said just now. I have a pony 
and trap, and there is the garden to look 
after — I'm sure you could learn to do that, 
and there are two rooms over the stable 
where the last man used to live. Will you 
take the place ? I want a man badly : poor 
Cookson, who used to work for me, is too ill 
to do so any longer, the doctor tells me. 
Will you take the place ? " Then as the man 
was still silent she went on, with a little laugh : 
"You know I told Dr. Dean you were 
working for me— you wouldn't make me a 
liar, would you ? " 

Richard blinked still more. "I arn't fit 
for it, lady," he said, at last, so gruffly that 
she could hardly hear the words. 

" It is for me to judge of that," she said. 
" You have shown yourself a kind and honest 
man to-night." 

He was fairly blubbering now. " God 
bless you, lady," wiping his eyes with the 




back of his sleeve. "God bless you, Vd 
—I'd bloom in' well die for you." 

There was a step upon the stairs and the 
doctor entered, shooting a questioning glance 
at the moist Rich- 
ard. "Well, Mrs. 
Th or burn, I'm 
afraid you've lost 
a servant, " he said, 
cheerily. " Oh, no, 
I don't mean this 
worthy fellow. 1 
mean Jane, The 
hysteria has passed 
off", but a sense of 
injury remains, I 
left her packing 
her boxes. Per- 
haps," and again 
he glanced at the 
penitent one, " per- 
haps it is as welL 
And now, my dear 
madam, it is nearly 
day. If you will 
allow me, I have a 
suggestion to make. 
That is, that this 
worthy gentleman 
should leave your 
service and walk 
with me to Shel- 

"No, no," said 
Mrs. Thorburn, 
hastily, "It is all right 
CooksoiVs place," 

The doctor looked 
entirely wise ? " he asked, 

" Yes," was the decisive answer. 

"You have decided to take this man into 
your service, then? Very good. Then I 
suppose I must forgive him for transforming 

He — lie is to take 
at her " Is this 

my new free-wheel bicycle into an American 
wire-puzzle But in these circumstances I 
have another proposal to make. Can you 
give me breakfast at eight o'clock? I can 

cook it myself." 

11 Certainly, doc- 
tor," said Mrs. 
Thorburn, in a 
tone of surprise ; 
"and there is no 
need for you to 
show your skill. 
The cook is com- 
ing in the carrier's 
cart at seven 

"Very good, 
then. If 1 may, 
I want to have a 
chat with this man 
of yours," 

Mrs. Thorburn 
hesitated. " Very 
well, doctor," she 
said, at last ; " but 
remember, he is 
my man." 

" Certainly, cer- 
tainly," said Dr. 
Dean, "Come, 
my friend, we two 
champion runners 
will rest our weary 
limbs in the kit- 
chen. I want to 
talk to you, to give you a few hints — about 
gardening, I want you to be more suc- 
cessful there than in your last profession. 
Come along." 

The doctor had the bag in one hand, he 
thrust the other through the arm of the 
bewildered Richard, and both men went 
down together to the kitchen. 


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Original from 

Curious Incidents at Cricket. 

By W. J. Ford. 

HERE can be no one who has 
played much cricket who has 
not a fund of strange stories 
about the curious incidents 
that he has seen or experi- 
enced : indeed, one has only 
to foregather with some fellow cricketers and 
to listen to their yarns to wonder whether some 
cricket stories might not well be ranked with 
" fish stories,'' so hard is it to believe them. 
But any reader of The Strand who perseveres 
to the end of this article will, I trust, be less 
incredulous in the future, and will credit the 
toughest tales with at any rate a foundation 
of truth, for what I have to tell are either facts 
that have come under my own observation 
or are otherwise well authenticated, many of 
the in [x:mg drawn from that great source of 
information on matters concern- 
ing cricket, "M.C.C. Scores and 
Biographies." The stories are 
intentionally given in no set order, 
as few things are so dull as a 
series of anecdotes scientifically 
grouped under definite headings; 
it is better to let them flow 
forth at random, just as they 
would be told in the pavilion or 
the smoking-room. 

Cricket had been played, or at 
least records kept, for about fifty 
years before pads were invented 
in 1790; queer pads they were, 
too, consisting of thin boards 
set angle-wise to allow the ball 
to glance off, and the inventor 
was one " Three-fingered Jack,' 1 
of the famous Hambledon Club, 
the original nursery of cricket 
He had lost one or two fingers, 
and consequently had the handle 
of his bat grooved, so as to get 
a better grip of it- This arrange- 
ment was no doubt a necessity, 
considering Jack's affliction, but 
I have seen an arrangement that 
was almost more curious in actual 
use : the batsman, liking a heavy 
bat for slow bowling and a light 
one for faster deliveries, had 
a hole bored in the back of " THE Pl 
VoU x». -a 

his bat about six inches from the bottom, 
into which he could screw a loaded disc of 
wood, thereby increasing the weight of his 
bat as required. He has never to my 
knowledge had any imitators, The bat, 
indeed, is often responsible for the fall of 
the batsman's wicket \ but while bad mani- 
pulation is the main cause, yet this trusty 
friend often proves untrue, as happened a 
short time ago when, the batsman having 
made a good stroke, a splinter was broken 
ofT by the force of the hit and knocked the 
bail off; but Wells, the Sussex player, had a 
stranger experience in i860, for the blade 
parted company with the handle {bats were 
often made in one piece then) and, leaving 
the handle in bis hand, flew over his shoulder 
and dismantled thi- wicket, A third and 





similar story is equally true ; the string that 
bound a broken bat gave way unnoticed and 
dislodged a bail, the batsman being in the 
act of striking : hence, as in the other cases, 
he was out — hit wicket. But one wonders 
that the laws do not provide for so untoward 
an incident* which ought never to be fatal to 
the striker's innings. 

Fast bowlers sometimes break a stump, 
but I have seen quite a slow bowler do so, 
hitting it presumably on the exact point of 
least resistance, while on the other hand I 
have seen a fast bowler palpably hit the 
wicket without knocking down a bail, and 
this happened twice in one innings! One 
hardly dares to tell the story and be believed, 
but Shacklock, of Nottingham, was the bowler. 

the stem into his throat, while another one 
actually impaled itself on the knife of an old 
woman who w*as dispensing ginger- beer and 
other commodities to the crowd. Spectators 
ought not to get hurt, for they are supposed 
to have their eye on the game ; but an unfor- 
tunate lady at Eastbourne, who was skating 
on the covered roller-rink, was hit by a ball 
which descended through a window in the 
roof, and so startled her that she fell and 
broke her arm. Another lady, entering the 
ground and astonished to find her sunshade 
suddenly whisked out of her hand, turned 
round to remonstrate with the aggressor, 
which proved to be only a little globe of red 
leather, lately in rapid motion. 

Bails often have unaccountable ways of 


Here is another almost incredible story, but 
true. Last year my brother, I\ G. J. Ford, 
hit a ball straight back so hard that it struck 
the opposite wicket and hounded back 
within his own popping-crease, while I myself 
once hit a ball which caught in the edge of 
the thatched roof of the pavilion and ran 
about a foot up the thatch, though no one 
could understand how a ball which was 
necessarily dropping could take such a course. 
But balls are perverse things : one which 
was hit to the ring is recorded to have struck 
the pipe of a spectator and to have driven 

by Google 

their own ; they have been knocked into the 
air, but have settled tranquilly in their 
groove again. One is said —I dotft vouch for 
this— to have flown into the air, and turning 
in the air to have readjusted itself on the 
stumps, but with the long end where the 
short should have been ; they have been 
nipped between the middle and the outer 
stump, and so prevented from falling. We 
lost one once, and found it at last in 
the wicket-keeper's pocket, while the ball 
has struck one something like seventy yards 
from the wicket It is not everyone who 
Original from 




knows that a former Prince of Wales, 
the father of George II L, died from the 
effects of a blow from a cricket ball, which 
struck him in the chest and caused a 
cancerous growth, the removal of which 
resulted in death. 
The man who 
used to long-stop 
to a certain very 
fast bowler 
named Brown 
must have heard 
of this, for he 
used to arm him- 
self with a pad 
of hay inside his 
shirt. He pro- 
bably needed it, 
fo r Brown 
bowled w i t h 
such speed that 
he is said to 
have sent a ball 
at practice 
through the coat 
with which the 
long - stop tried 
to stop it, and 
to have killed a 
dog on the other 
side ! It must 
have been a very 
old coat and a 
very thin-skulled 
dog, unless the 
true version be 
that, the long- 
stop holding the coat to one side of him, 
the ball slipped, as it might do T along 
and under the coat, and then demolished 
the dog. Brown's bowling, however, was 
not always as deadly as this, for we read 
that in 1819 a player called Beldham- not, 
of course, the famous player who died com- 
paratively recently— hit his bowling so hard 
that Brown was afraid to bowl to him ! Yet 
Beldham was then fifty-three years old. 

The laws of cricket suggest nine ways of 
getting out, to which Tom Emmett added a 
tenth, viz., "Given out wrong by the umpire," 
but this method does not often figure on 
the score sheet , and usually exists only in the 
batsman's mind, for there are generally 
eleven good men and true— on the other 
side— to support the umpire's verdict; but 
in a match, played in 1829, between Sheffield 
Wednesday and Nottingham, Dawson, a 
Sheffield man, is, according to the Sheffield 
score - book,, " cheated out," though the 



Nottingham book only says "run out." This 
match seems to have provoked a good deal 
of feeling in other years also, as witness the 
Sheffield Wednesday book again, "A most 
disgraceful match ! The Nottingham umpire 

kept calling 'No- 
bair whenever a 
straight ball was 
bowled, and 
Sheffield were 
foolish for con- 
tinuing the game 
when they per- 
ceived that an 
unfair advantage 
was being taken/' 
The Nottingham 
book still reMecls 
that silence is 
golden, and 
ighores the inci- 
dent. Betting 
w*as probably at 
the bottom of 
the occurrence, 
for matches for 
money , or on 
which money 
depended, were 
so frequent that 
"win, tie, or 
wrangle " has 
passed into a 

This is cer- 
tainly the only 
way in which to 
account for such entries as : " Unfinished 
owing to disputed decision on the question 
of Lb + w,," "Given out unfairly and refused 
to retire," "Side refuses to go out and abide 
by the decision of the ump ; re," Hut, after 
all t what is to be done if an umpire gives a 
decision contrary to the laws of the game, 
as, for instance, when a man was given out 
in a first-class match for handling the hail ? 
He might just as well have been sent back 
for blowing his nose. Another curious entry 
(1843) is " (; - Plank, walked out" Is this 
an obscure joke about "walking the plank? " 
or did Plank walk away in dudgeon ? or does 
it mean that Plank inadvertently walked 
away from his wicket and was " run out " ? 
What, again, is "nipt out"? This sad fate 
befell Mr. Gandy in a match between Eton 
and Old field in 1793 ; and collateral evidence 
shows that " nipt " is not the same as caught, 
bowled, stumped, hit wicket, or run out 
Remembering that to "nip" a ball meant 
Original from 




the same thinf^as to u snick" one, I think 
the expression signifies " Caught at the 
wicket/' a fate which must have been rare 
in those days of all -along-the-giwind bowling, 

By the way, there is a charmingly naive 
record about a match between England and 
Twenty-two of Nottingham in iSi'S, for the 
game is said to have been sold on both 
sides; an umpire changed for *' cheating " 
(this was illegal, the changing as well as the 
cheating), and Lord F. Beauclerc's finger was 
broken by an angry and desperate fielder. 
Reading between the lines, one gathers that 
his lordship was bowling too well to please 
one of the fieldsmen, who, having backed 
the other side, did not like to see them 
bowled out* and tried to incapacitate 
the bowler. The name of " Lord " is 
so great a name 10 cricketers that one 
does not like to associate it with anything 
shabby, but it is nevertheless true that though 
Lord had promised twenty guineas to anyone 
who could hit out of his ground 
(the original site of Dorset Square, 
and now absorbed, I fancy, by the 
Great Central Railway), yet he 
refused to pay up to E> H. Budd, 
who had earned the money by 
performing the feat. A similar sum 
was offered, it is said, by a member 
of the Melbourne C.C to anyone 
who succeeded in bitting the clock 
over the pavilion, and he duly 
handed over the money to thai 
colossal hitter, G. I\ lion nor, who 
hit the clock face and broke it 
This same Mr* Budd once 
played a single-wicket match, 
probably Tor a stake, with a 
man named Brand. Budd 
scored 70 and purposely 
knocked down bis wicket ; 
he then got Brand out for 
o, and there being no follow- 
on at single wicket went in 
again, and again knocked his 
wicket down after making jt. 
Brand again scored o, so that he probably 
had as much of Budd's cricket as he wanted. 

Another single- wicket match was played 
out in twelve balls, off the last of which the 
solitary and winning run was made, This 
must be the shortest match on record, but it 
is only fair to Diver, the Rugby coach, who 
lost, to say that he was only allowed to play 
with a broomstick. Here is a nice little bit 
of bowling, date 1861, The United Master 
Butchers played twenty of Metropolitan 
clubs, and got them out for 4 runs; C 

Absulon, the well known veteran, had eight- 
teen out of the nineteen wickets that felL 
With my own eyes I have seen the ball run 
up the bat* cut the strikers eyebrow and 
bound into a fieldsman's hand, so that he 
was caught out, and bad luck we thought it ; 
but K. Dowson had worse luck at the Oval 
in 1S62, for one of the opposing bowlers sent 
down a ball that rose and hit hirVi in the 
mouth, knocking him on to his wicket, so 
that he was out for hitting wicket Worse 
offenders have escaped unharmed ; one for 
instance Winter was bis name bit his 
wicket so hard that "all three stumps were 
almost horizontal, but the bails were jammed," 
and consequently did not fall off, so that 



Winter continued his innings. In i860 
something similar occurred, but how it 
happened passes my understanding, for we 
are told that in a match played at Cam- 
bridge, between the University and the 
Town, the bowler, Reynolds, forced a bail 
one inch into the stumps, but did not 
dislodge it ! This sounds incredible, but as 
the occurrence is comparatively recent let us 
hope that someone who was playing in the 
match will see these lines and explain 

Original from 




The following score is curious : Chalcot 
was playing Bow ; Bow scored 99, Chalcot 
27 and ri ; so far all is simply but one 
Chalcot batsman, H. Payne, scored 24 and 
10, being not out in each innings; wides 
totalled 3 and r, so that the other ten bats- 
men were got out twice each and scored 
never a run between them— ten "pairs of 
spectacles in one match \ n " Pro-digious ! " 
as Dominie Sampson would have said. 
Another single-wicket match must not escape 
us : it was played in 1853 between Messrs. 
Barrett and Swain. Swain scored 5, and 
Barrett 3 and 1 ; yet neither made a run, for 
they were all wides ! 

I believe 37 is the largest number of runs 
ever scored for a single hit, the wickets being 
pitched at the top of a hill, down which the 
ball was hit, and over which it was thrown 
when originally retrieved ; but R P. Miller 
hit a u thirteener " at single wicket, which 
must be a record ; the ball, of course, was 
not returned within the boundary stumps, 
so that the unhappy fieldsman had to chase 
his own throw what time the batsman was 
sprinting between the stumps. The mention 
of hills recalls a 
famous bowler of 
old time, Lumpy 
by name, who 
always contrived 
to pitch the 
wickets, or to get 
the wickets 
pitched, in such a 
way that there 
should be a little 
declivity on which 
to drop the ball ; 
for as the local 
pqet sang — I 
quote from 
memory : — 

Honest Lumpy did 

I lender could pitch 

hut o'er a brow, 

I wonder what 
the ground man at 
Lord's or the Oval 
would say if Jack 
Hearne or Lock- 
wood insisted on 
selecting a pitch 
to suit them ! 
Where the word 
" honest n comes 
in, few cricketers 
could see. A 


tussock of grass once killed a cricketer, who, 
presumably when fielding, tripped over it, 
ruptured himself, and died in consequence ; 
luckily cricket Is a game of few fatal 

A friend of mine, an old Cambridge man, 
used to tell a good story illustrative of 
obstinacy and contempt for rules, A stalwart 
miner was bowled out first ball, which 
apparently he regarded as "trial," and made 
no move, till the wicket-keeper suggested 
that he was out and had to go, "1 ain't 
out," he replied; "I ain't out till I'm purred 
out : happen not then." " Purring, 1 ' the 
uninitiated should be informed, is good 
Lancashire for " kicking," A match was 
played last year between one-armed men 
and one-legged men, and was freely com- 
mented on as a curiosity, whereas it was 
only a revival Such a match took place as 
early as 1796, and was certainly played, 
annually I think, in the fifties and early 
sixties, the one-armed men generally winning 
as being the better runners and bowlers. 

A violin is a charming instrument, but it 
has not often saved a man's life ; it is 

credited with such 
a performance in 
a good old day, 
when one Small 
just interposed it 
in time to save his 
head from the 
ball Possibly the 
ball was of his 
own make, for 
Small was not 
only a violinist 
and a good 
cricketer, but a 
manufacturer of 
cricket kills as 
well, being origin- 
ally a cobbler by 
trade. He lapsed 
into the poetical 
when he devised 
him a signboard, 
for the legend on 
it ran :- 
John Small 
Make Bat and Itoll 
Pitch a Wicket 
Play at Cricket 
Willi any Man 
In England. 

Let us hope his 
bowling was not 
so erratic as his 
final rhyme, 

by L^OOgle 

Original from 



All cricketers can dilate on the extraordinary 
catches they have seen made, they them- 
selves being generally the victims ; but putting 
those aside which concern them personally, 
they would* I believe, combine in giving 
their second votes* as the Athenians gave 
theirs to Aristides, to a Captain Adams who 
was playing in Phcenix Park, Dublin, in 175 1. 
The ball was hit to him in the long field, and 
he not only jumped a fence 3ft. loin, high, 
but actually caught the ball in the course of 
his jump. The story is a hard one to believe, 


but there it is, duly recorded in print, with 
dates and measurements all in apple-pie 

There are plenty of curious incidents that 
depend on statistics alone, as for instance in 
a match of very low scoring, played between 
South Sussex and North Sussex, when in an 
aggregate of 89 runs for thirty-two wickets there 
was only one hit, a three er, above a single ; 
again in one innings no fewer than seven men 
were run out ; in a single match of three 
innings there were twenty duck's-eggs ; and 
in an innings of 120 there was no hit for 2, 
though there were plenty of 3's and 4*s, 



Again, in an innings of 38, no fewer than seven 
men scored 4 each ; while in another match, 
Gentlemen v. Players, Burbidge, the Surrey 
amateur, caught five men in one innings, 
"all of them fine catches." 

The ball occasionally gets played into a 
man's shirt, This has, indeed, occurred to 
\\\ G* Grace himself; but it has played more 
curious pranks than this, having lodged in a 
man's pads and once in the wicket-keeper's 
arm-pit ; in this case short slip extracted it 
and claimed the catch ; but the following 
note does not explain itself 
very lucidly. Playing for York- 
shire against Surrey, Anderson 
u played the hall on to the heel 
of his shot*, and was there (su) 
caught by Lockyer," the wickcl- 
kee|*er + A cricketer's costume 
was regarded as important even 
in 1828, for Bttfs Life has a 
remark to the effect that "it 
would be much better if H. 
Davis would appear in a 
cricketing dress, instead of in 
that of a sailor " ; but it is 
hardly probable that it has ever 
happened before 1899 that 
only two men turned out to 
field in a county match pro- 
perly apparelled : yet so it hap- 
pened at Dews bury, where the 
Derbyshire professionals found 
that the water had not been 
turned off at night in their 
dressing-room, and that all 
their clothes were soaked 
through and through. Luckily 
only about a quarter of an 
hour was required to finish 
off the match. 

Most of us cricketers recall 
a match in which H. J. Scott , 
the Australian, wound up with 
six, six, six, four; but a certain 
G* Hall, playing for the Gentlemen of Sussex 
against the Players of the County, hit the first 
three balls of the match out of the ground. I 
myself once received the first and the last 
ball of a match, each of which went out of 
the ground, and each of which was bowled 
by the same bowler, 

The dog which Brown killed, as already 
told, is not the only dumb spectator that has 
met with an unnatural death at the hands —if 
I maybe allowed the " hull "—of a cricket 
hall, for is it not on record that Tom Hearne, 
the great Middlesex cricketer of early years, 
was just about to deliver the ball when a 
Original from 




He was fielding at 

pigeon flew across the wicket ? Tom stopped, 

aimed at the bird instead of the stumps, and 

brought it down dead. F. Qesar did the 

same thing in 1S47, the victim this time 

being, however, a swallow ; while a good 

story is told about S. E. Gregory, the 

Australian cricketer. 

cover-point, but hts 

attention was astray, 

when a sudden shout 

of " Look out, Sid ! " 

recalled his wandering 

wits. He made a 

sudden grab at what 

he thought was the 

ball — and fielded a 

swallow ! Apropos 

dts botteS) my brother 

in-law not long ago 

decapitated a lark with 

a golf-ball 

Wen man, a great 
cricketer early in the 
century, once experi- 
enced a curious piece 
of good luck, the ball 
passing clean through 
the stumps without 
removing a bail ; 
yet experiment 
proved afterwards 
that the ball could 
not go through 
without touching 
them. The ex 
planation must be 
that the stumps 
"spread" just 
enough to permit 
the passage of the 
ball without un- 
seating the bail, 

and then closed up again, as is quite possible 
if the ground was hard. But even if passible, 
it was curious, and scarcely cheering to the 
other side, as Wen man eventually scored 
139, and was not got out. It was not 
uncommon in early days for a side whose 
chances were hopeless to give up the game ; 
did not Dingley Dell surrender to All 
Muggleton? But in so late a year as 18 58 
the Old Etonians gave up a match to the 
0!d Harrovians, "because they did not 
want to come up on the second day." The 
Old Harrovians, however, were winning hands 
down. It is also in the history of the 
Middlesex Club that the "secretary cour- 
teously gave up the match," rain preventing 
the opposing aide from getting the two or 



three runs required to win. Of course, this 
was a "club" match, and not a county 
match, the opponents being The Butter- 
flies ; still, one would be surprised to find 
such a thing done in the present day, even in 
the " tenthest " of tenth-rate matches, 
-An interesting match, which certainly has 
claims to be called 
"curious, 3 ' was played in 
[858 between eighteen 
veterans and England, the 
veterans scoring £2 and 
164, England 96 and 51. 
The veterans 
ra n ged from 
thirty-nine to fifty- 
four years of age, 
though Chester, 
aged thirty - four, 
was specially 
allowed to play 
for them; yet 
seventeen years 
later only three of 
the older men 
were dead, two of 
whom were acci- 
dentally killed. 
In the same year 
five amateurs 
played in a game between 
Kent and England ; the 
scoring was not heavy, 
only 380 runs for thirty- 
five wickets, but the ten innings 
of the amateurs only produced 
11 of the runs. 

One would think that no stupen- 
dous effort, menial or physical, is 
melded needed to measure twenty -two 
yards with perfect accuracy, yet 
the ground man has failed at 
least twice in this simple task. In 1861 
it was not discovered till four men were 
out that the pitch was 4ft. short, ^o the 
match was continued, not recommenced, 
on another and a proper pitch, while a 
similar thing occurred on the Cambridge 
University ground in a first-class match 
about 1880, two or three wickets having 
fallen before the error was discovered : the 
game, however, was begun afresh, and one of 
the Studds who had got hut few runs in his 
first try now made 60 or 70. Recommence- 
ment was clearly the proper course, but the 
moral is, "Trust lo a chain and not to a 
tape, as the latter may easily meet with an 
accident unobserved or unnoted. 1 ' 

Here are a few more oddities from my 


6 4 


note-book. In an innings of 202 a man 
made 32 threes and 32 twos ; another man 
struck the ball on to the ground, but managed 
to hit it a second time as it bounded up, and 
into point's hands, the umpire actually 
deciding "Out" The same thing exactly 
has happened to myself, the ball going to 
short-slip, hut the umpire knew his business 
better, and I went on with my innings. 

I have just recalled what ** Narrow escape 
of two ladies," a memorandum in my book, 


means. We were playing a scratch game at 
East bourne to fill up an afternoon, and I was 
fielding in the region of the tea -tent, the 
spectators standing about rather in my way. 
Suddenly I saw a hard hit coming that way, 
and, shouting " Look out : " went for the 
ball, which passed between the heads of two 
ladies busily engaged in chatting, and fell 

into my hands : their faces must have been 
within a couple of feet of each other, 

I remember, too, nearly robbing our 
college club of secretary and captain at one 
fell blow, the ball whizzing between their 
heads as they were talking : the funny thing 
was that the net was apparently between 
them and me, as they stood near where mid- 
off would be posted in a match, but the ball 
curled, as a hard-hit ball often does curl on 
the off-side, and showed them that their 
security was more ideal than 

The laws limit the bowler's 
privilege of changing ends; 
but as " nice customs curtsey 
to great kings," the M.CC. 
once allowed a match to be 
played at Lord's between the 
Club and the Gentlemen of 
England, in which R. Holden, 
with " ten picked fields," 
bowled all t brought changing 
ends at the close of each 
over. He must have been a 
good stayer to stand so much 
work without an "easy/' 

How is this for a case of 
unfair play? Lord F. Beau- 
clerc, in a single- wicket match 
between three of Surrey and 
three of England in 1806, 
14 unseen took a lump of wet 
dirt and sawdust and stuck 
it on the ball, which, pitching 
favourably, made an extra- 
ordinary twist and took the 
batsman's wicket-" Umpires 
had to be as 4 * slim "as the 
players in the days when 
matches were played for 

One could cover pages with 
such incidents as 1 have 
jotted down, but, unfortunately, though the 
fund of stories is almost inexhaustible, 
there is a limit to what is generally regarded 
as illimitable — space ; but the reader who, 
like Oliver Twist, asks for more need only 
apply to the first cricketing friend he meets, 
who will, temporarily at least, be able to 
appease his appetite for curiosities- 

by Google 

Original from 

The Brass Bottle. 

Bv 1\ Anstev. 

Author of I( Vi€t-V*rsd* eft., etc. 


there's no help, come, let us 


S soon as the Professor seemed 
to have regained his faculties 
Horace opened the door and 
called in Sylvia and her 
mother, who were, as was 
only to be expected, over- 
come with joy on seeing the head of the 
family released horn his ignoble condition of 
a singularly ill-favoured quadruped. 
u F lh ere, ihere^' said the Professor, as he 


submitted to their embraces and incoherent 
congratulations, " it's nothing to make a fuss 
about Fin quite myself again, as you can 
see. And," he added, with an unreasonable 
outburst of ilUernper, " if one of you had 
only had the common sense to think of 
such a simple remedy as sprinkling a little 

Vol. * x, —9. 

cold water over me when I was first taken like 
that, I should have been spared a great deal 
of unnecessary inconvenience. Hut that's 
always the way with women— lose their 
heads the moment anything goes wrong 1 If 

1 had not kept perfectly cool myself- " 

" It was very, very stupid of us not to think 
of it, papa/ 1 said Sylvia, tactfully ignoring 
the fact that there was scarcely an undamaged 
article in the room; "still, you know, if wt 
had thrown the water it mightn't have had 
the same effect" 

44 Fm not in a condition to argue now/' 

said her fattier ; 
"you didn't 
trouble to try it, 
and there's no 
more to be 
said + JJ 

"No more to 
be said!" ex- 
claimed Fakrash, 
4t O thou monster 
of ingratitude, 
hast thou n o 
thanks for him 
who hath delivered 
thee from thy 
predicament ?" 

11 As lam al- 
ready indebted to 
you, sir/' said the 
Professor, ** for 
about twenty- four 
Hours of the most 
poignant and 
mental and bodily 
anguish a human 
being cm endure, 
inflicted for no 
valid reason that 
I can discover except the wanton indulgence 
of your unholy powers, I can only say that 
any gratitude of which I am conscious is of a 
very qualified description. As for you, 
Ventimore," he added, turning to Horace, 
"I don't know — I can only guess at- the 
part you have played in this wretched busi- 
ness ; but in any case, you will understand, 
once for all, that all relations between us 
must cease." 

iL Papa," said Sylvia, tremulously, " Horace 
and I have already agreed that— that we 

must separate." 

1 nrininsl from 

Copy**, i*oo in , H l^«it» of *^^|}^^ J^^IQ^ 



44 At my bidding," explained Fakrash, 
suavely; "for such an alliance would be 
totally unworthy of his merits and con- 

This frankness was rather too much for 
the Professor, whose temper had not been 
improved by his recent trials. 

44 Nobody asked for your opinion, sir ! " he 
snapped. " A person who has only recently 
been released from a term of long and, from 
all I have been able to ascertain, well- 
deserved imprisonment, is scarcely entitled 
to pose as an authority on social rank. Have 
the decency not to interfere again with my 
domestic affairs." 

44 Excellent is the saying," remarked the 
imperturbable Jinnee, <4t Let the rat that is 
between the paws of the leopard observe 
rigidly all the rules of politeness and refrain 
from words of provocation/ For to return 
thee to the form of a mule once more would 
be no difficult undertaking." 

44 1 think I failed to make myself clear," 
the Professor hastened to observe — 4t failed 
to make myself clear. I — I merely meant to 
congratulate you on your fortunate escape 
from the consequences of what I — I don't 
doubt was a judicial error. I— I am sure 
that, in the future, you will employ your— 
your very remarkable abilities to better 
purpose, and I would suggest that the 
greatest service you can do this unfortunate 
young man here is to abstain from any 
further attempts to promote his interests." 

44 Hear, hear ! " Horace could not help 
throwing in, though in so discreet an under- 
tone that it was inaudible. 

44 Far be this from me," replied Fakrash. 
" For he has become unto me even as a 
favourite son, whom I design to place upon 
the golden pinnacle of felicity. Therefore, I 
have chosen for him a wife, who is unto this 
damsel of thine as the full moon to the glow- 
worm, and as the bird of Paradise to an un- 
fledged sparrow. And the nuptials shall be 
celebrated before many hours." 

44 Horace ! " cried Sylvia, justly incensed, 
44 why — why didn't you tell me this before? " 

44 Because," said the unhappy Horace, 44 this 
is the very first I've heard of it. He's always 
springing some fresh surprise on me," he 
added, in a whisper — 44 but they never come 
to anything much. And he can't marry me 
against my will, you know." 

44 No," said Sylvia, biting her lip. " I 
never supposed he could do that, Horace." 

44 I'll settle this at once," he replied. 
"Now, look here, Mr. Jinnee," he added, 
" I don't know what new scheme you have 

Digitized by LiOOgJC 

got in your head — but if you are proposing 
to marry me to anybody m particular " 

44 Have I not informed thee that I have it 
in contemplation. to obtain for thee the hand 
of a King's daughter of marvellous beauty 
and accomplishments ? " 

44 You know perfectly well you never men- 
tioned it before," said Horace, while Sylvia 
gave a little low cry. 

44 Repine not, O damsel," counselled the 
Jinnee, 44 since it is for his welfare. For, 
though as yet he beheveth it not, when he 
beholds the resplendent beauty of her counte- 
nance he will swoon away with delight and 
forget thy very existence." 

4 ' I shall do nothing of the sort," said 
Horace, savagely. 44 Just understand that I 
don't intend to marry any Princess. You 
may prevent me — in fact you have — from 
marrying this lady, but you can't force me 
to marry anybody else. 1 defy you." 

44 When thou hast seen thy bride's per- 
fections thou wilt need no compulsion," 
said Fakrash. 44 And if thou should'st 
refuse, know this : that thou wilt be exposing 
those who are dear to thee in this household 
to calamities of the most unfortunate descrip- 

The awful vagueness of this threat com- 
pletely crushed Horace ; he could not think, 
he did not even dare to imagine, what con- 
sequences he might bring upon his beloved 
Sylvia and her helpless parents by persisting 
in his refusal. 

44 Give me time," he said, heavily ; 4i I want 
to talk this over with you." 

"Pardon me, Ventimore," said the Pro- 
fessor, with acidulous politeness ; 44 but, 
interesting as the discussion of your matri- 
monial arrangements is to you and your — 
a — protector, I should greatly prefer that you 
chose some more fitting place for arriving 
at a decision which is in the circumstances a 
foregone conclusion. I am rather tired and 
upset, and I should be obliged if you and 
this gentleman could bring this most trying 
interview to a close as soon as you con- 
veniently can." 

44 You hear, Mr. Fakrash?" said Horace, 
between his teeth, 44 it is quite time we left. 
If you go at once, I will follow you very 
shortly. " 

44 Thou wilt find me awaiting thee," 
answered the Jinnee, and, to Mrs. Futvoye's 
and Sylvia's alarm, disappeared through one 
of the bookcases. 

44 Well," said Horace, gloomily, iC you see 
how I'm situated. That obstinate old brute 
has cornered me. I'm done for ! " 



6 7 


fci 1 )on't say that/ 5 said the Professor ; " you 
appear to be on the eve of a most brilliant 
alliance, in which I am sure you have our 
best wishes — the best wishes of us all/' he 
added, pointedly. 

"Sylvia," said Horace, still lingering, 
* 4 before I go, tell me that, whatever I may 
have to do, you will understand that— that it 
will be for your sake 3 " 

li Please don't talk like that," she said. 
*' We may never see one another again, 
Don't let my last recollection of you be of — 
of a hypocrite, Horace !" 

" A hypocrite ! " he cried, (l Sylvia, this 
i^* too much ! What have I said or done to 
make you think me that?" 

"Oh, I am not so simple as you suppose, 
Horace," she replied, " I see now why all 
this has happened: why poor dad was 
tormented ; why you insisted on my 
setting you free. But I would have re- 
leased \ou without that/ Indeed, all 
this elaborate artifice wasn't in the least 
necessary ! " 

1 Vou believe I was an accomplice in that 
old fool's plot ? " he said. " You believe me 
a:ich a cur as that ? M 

"I don't blame you/" she said. "I [don't 

Digitized by v^OOQ IC 

believe you could 
help yourself, 
He can make 
you do what- 
ever he chooses. 
And, then, you are 
so rich now, it is 
natural that you 
should want to 
marry someone — 
someone more 
suited to you — like 
this lovely Princess 
of yours." 

"Of mine!" 
groaned the ex- 
asperated Horace. 
"When I tell you 
I've never even 
seen her ! As if 
any Princess in 
the world would 
marry me to please 
a Jinnee out of a 
brass bottle 3 And 
if she did, Sylvia, 
you can't believe 
that any Princess 
would make me 
forget you ! n 

M It depends so 
very much on the Princess/' was all Sylvia 
could be induced to say. 

"Well/ 5 said Horace, "if that's all the 
faith you have in me, I suppose it's useless 
to say any more. Good-bye, Mrs. Futvoye ; 
goodbye, Professor, I wish I could tell 
you how deeply I regret all the trouble I 
have brought on you by my own folly. All 
I can say is that I will bear anything in 
future rather than expose you or any of you 
to the smallest risk." 

" I trust, indeed/' said the Professor, stiffly, 
"that you will use all the influence at your 
command to secure me from any repetition 
of an experience that might well have 
unmanned a less equable temperament than 
my own." 

"Good-bye, Horace/' said Mrs. Futvoye, 
more kindly. " I believe you are more to be 
pitied than blamed, whatever others may 
think. And /don't forget — if Anthony does 
— that, but for you, he might, instead of 
sitting there comfortably in his arm-chair, be 
lashing out with his hind legs and kicking 
everything to pieces at this very moment ! " 

u I deny that I lashed out ! " said the Pro- 
fessor. " My— ah — hind-quarters may have 
been under imperfect control — but I never 




lost my reasoning powers or my good humour 
for a single instant. I can say that truth- 

If the Professor could say that truthfully 
amidst the general wreck in which he sat, 
like another Marius, he had little to learn in 
the gentle art of self-deception ; but there 
was nothing to gain by contradicting him 

" Good-bye, Sylvia," said Horace, and held 
out his hand. 

" Good-bye," she said, without offering to 
take it or look at him — and, after a miserable 
pause, he left the study. But before he had 
reached the front door he heard a swish and 
swirl of drapery behind him, and felt her 
light hand on his arm. " Ah, no ! " she said, 
clinging to him, " I can't let you go like this. 

I A?& 


I didn't mean all the things I said just now. 
I do believe in you, Horace — at least, I'll try 
hard to . . . And I shall always, always love 
you, Horace ... I sha'n't care — very much 
— even if you forget me, so long as you are 
happy. . . Only don't be too happy. Think 
of me sometimes ! " 

"I shall not be too happy," he said, as he 
held her close to his heart and kissed her 

Digitized by \j>i 

pathetically drawn mouth and flushed cheeks. 
"And I shall think of you always." 

" And you won't fall in love with your 
Princess?" entreated Sylvia, at the end of 
her altruism. " Promise ! " 

" If I am ever provided with one," he 
replied, "■ I shall loathe her — for not being 
you. But don't let us lose heart, darling. 
There must be some way of talking that old 
idiot out of this nonsense and bringing him 
round to common sense. I'm not going to 
give in just yet ! " 

These were brave words — but, as they 
both felt, the situation had little enough to 
warrant them, and, after one last long 
embrace, they parted, and he was no sooner 
on the steps than he felt himself caught up 
as before and borne through the air with 
breathless speed, till he was set 
down, he could not have well 
said how, in a chair in his own 
sitting-room at Vincent Square. 

" Well," he said, looking at the 
Jinnee, who was standing opposite, 
with a smile of intolerable com- 
placency, " I suppose you feel 
satisfied with yourself over this 
business ? " 

" It hath indeed been brought 
to a favourable conclusion," said 
Eakrash. " Well hath the poet 

written " 

u I don't think I can stand 
any more * Elegant Extracts ' 
this afternoon," interrupted 
" Horace, " Let us come to 

business. You seem," he went 
on, with a strong effort to keep 
himself in hand, u to have formed 
some plan for marrying me to a 
King's daughter. May I ask you 
for full particulars ? " 

" No honour and advancement 
can be in excess of thy deserts," 
answered the Jinnee. 

'* Very kind of you to say so — 
but you are probably unaware 
that, as society is constituted at 
the present time, the objections 
to such an alliance would 
be quite insuperable." 

" For me," said the Jinnee, " few obstacles 
are insuperable. But speak thy mind 

" I will," said Horace. " To begin with, 
no European Princess of the Blood Royal 
would entertain the idea for a moment. 
And if she did, she would forfeit her rank 
and cease to be a Princess, and I should 




probably be imprisoned in a fortress for 
)he fitajesie or something. 5 ' 

" Dismiss thy fears, for I do not propose 
to unite thee to any Princess that is born of 
mortals. The bride I intend for thee is a 
Jinneeyeh ; the peerless Bedeea-cI-Jemal, 
daughter of my kinsman Shahyal, the Ruler 
of the Blue ]ann. ,n 

"Oh, is she, though?" said Horace, 
blankly. " I'm exceedingly obliged, but, 
whatever may be the lady's attractions " 


* Her nose/' recited the Jinnee, with 
enthusiasm, il is like unto the keen edge of 
a polished sword ; her hair resembleth 
jewels, and her checks are ruddy as wine. 
She hath heavy hips, and when she looketh 
aside she putteth to shame the wild cows," 

u My good, excellent friend," said Horace, 
by no means impressed by this catalogue of 
charms, u one doesivt marry to mortify 
wild cows. t? 

"VVhen she walketh with a vacillating 
gait,' 1 continued Fakrash, as though he had 
not been interrupted, "the willow branch 
itself tumeth green with envy." 

"Personally," said Horace?* JL^fi 

Digitized by V^OOS 

doesn't strike me as particularly fascinating— 
it's quite a matter of taste. Do you happen 
to have seen this enchantress lately? " 

" My eyes have not been refreshed by her 
manifold beauties since I was inclosed by 
Suleyman — whose name be accursed— in the 
brass bottle of which thou knowesL Why 
dost thou ask ? n 

11 Merely because it occurred to me that, 
after very nearly three thousand years, your 
charming kinswoman may — well, to put it as 
mildly as possible, not have 
altogether escaped the usual 
effects of Time. I mean, she 
must be getting on, you know ! " 
"0, silly-bearded one ! J? 
said the Jinnee, in half-scornful 
rebuke ; " art thou, then, ignor- 
ant that we of the Jinn are 
not as mortals, that we should 
feel the ravages of age ? " 

" Forgive me if I'm personal, 1 * 
said Horace ; " but surely your 
own hair and beard might be 
described as rather grey than 
any other colour, hi 

"Not from age/" said Kakrash. 
"This Cometh from long con- 
finement. 31 

" I see,"' said Horace. " Like 
the Prisoner of Chillon, Well, 
assuming that the lady in 
question is still in the bloom 
of early youth, I see one fatal 
difficulty to becoming her 

"Doubtless," said the 
jinnee, " thou art referring to 
Jarjarees, the son of Rejmous, 
the son of Iblees ? " 

"No, I wasn't," said 

Horace; * ( because, you see, I 

don't remember having ever 

heard of him* However, he's 

another fatal difficulty. That makes two of 


"Surely I have spoken of him to thee as 
my deadliest foe? It is true that he is a 
powerful and vindictive Efreet, who hath 
lung persecuted the beauteous Bedeea 
with hateful attentions. Yet it may be 
possible, by good fortune, to overthrow 

14 Then I gather that any suitor for Bedeea 's 
hand would be looked upon as a rival by the 
amiable Jarjarees? tJ 

" Far is he from being of an amiable 
disposition," answered the Jinnee, simply, 
"and he wdfliWqlpfalsfrctmnsported by rai;e 




and jealousy that he would certainly challenge 
thee to mortal combat." 

44 Then that settles it," said Horace. "I 
don't think anyone can fairly call me a 
coward, but I do draw the line at fighting 
an Efreet for the hand of a lady I've never 
seen. How do I know he'll fight fair?" 

" He would probably appear unto thee first 
in the form of a lion, and if he could not thus 
prevail against thee, transform himself into a 
serpent, and then into a buffalo or some 
other wild beast." 

" And I should have to tackle the entire 
menagerie ? " said Horace. " Why, my dear 
sir, I should never get beyond the lion ! " 

" I would assist thee to assume sipiilar 
transformations," said the Jinnee, "and thus 
thou may'st be enabled to defeat him. For 
I burn with desire to behold mine enemy 
reduced to cinders." 

" It's much more likely that you would 
have to sweep me up ! " said Horace, who 
had a strong conviction that anything in 
which the Jinnee was concerned would be 
bungled somehow. " And if you're so 
anxious to destroy this Jarjarees, why don't 
you challenge him to meet you in some quiet 
place in the desert and settle him yourself? 
It's much more in your line than it is in mine'" 

He was not without hopes that Fakrash 
might act on this suggestion, and that so 
he would be relieved of him in the simplest 
and most satisfactory way ; but any such 
hopes were, as usual, doomed to disappoint- 

" It would be of no avail," said the 
Jinnee, "for it hath been written of old that 
Jarjarees shall not perish save by the hand 
of a mortal. And I am persuaded that thou 
wilt turn out to be that mortal, since thou 
art both strong and fearless, and, moreover, 
it is also predestined that Bedeea shall wed 
one of the sons of men." 

"Then," said Horace, feeling that this line 
of defence must be abandoned, " I fall back 
on objection number one. Even if Jarjarees 
were obliging enough to retire in my favour, 
I should still decline to become the — a — 
consort of a Jinneeyeh whom I've never 
seen, and don't love." 

"Thou hast heard of her incomparable 
charms, and verily the ear may love before 
the eye." 

" It may," admitted Horace, " but neither 
of my ears is the least in love at present." 

"These reasons are of no value," said 
Fakrash, "and if thou hast none better " 

" Well," said Ventimore, " I think I have. 
You profess to be anxious to— to requite the 

Digitized by LiOOQ IC 

trifling service I rendered you, though 
hitherto, you'll admit yourself, you haven't 
made a very brilliant success of it. But, 
putting the past aside," he continued, with a 
sudden dryness in his throat; "putting the 
past aside, I ask you to consider what 
possible benefit or happiness such a match 
as this — I'm afraid I'm not so fortunate as to 
secure your attention ? " he broke off, as he 
observed the Jinnee's eyes beginning to film 
over in the disagreeable manner characteristic 
of certain birds. 

" Proceed," said Fakrash, unskinning his 
eyes for a second ; " I am hearkening unto 

" It seems to me," stammered Horace, 
inconsequently enough, " that all that time 
inside a bottle — well, you can't call it 
experience exactly ; and possibly in the interval 
you've forgotten all you knew about feminine 
nature. I think you must have." 

" It is not possible that such knowledge 
should be forgotten," said the Jinnee, resent- 
ing this imputation in quite a human way. 
"Thy words appear to me to lack sense. 
Interpret them, I pray thee." 

"Why," explained Horace, "you don't 
mean to tell me that this young and lovely 
relation of yours, a kind of immortal, and — 
and with the pride of Lucifer, would be 
gratified by your proposal to bestow her hand 
upon an insignificant and unsuccessful 
London architect ? She'd turn up that sharp 
and polished nose of hers at the mere idea 
of so unequal a match ! " 

" An excellent rank is that conferred by 
wealth," remarked the Jinnee. 

" But I'm not rich, and I've already de- 
clined any riches from you," said Horace. 
" And, what's more to the point, I'm perfectly 
and hopelessly obscure. If you had the 
slightest sense of humour — which I fear you 
have not — you would at once perceive the 
absurdity of proposing to unite a radiant, 
ethereal, sujxerhuman being to a common- 
place professional nonentity in a morning 
coat and a tall hat. It's really too ridiculous ! ' 

" What thou hast just said is not altogether 
without wisdom,' 1 said Fakrash, to whom this 
was evidently a new point of view. "Art 
thou, indeed, so utterly unknown?" 

" Unknown ? " repeated Horace ; " I should 
rather think I was ! I'm simply an incon- 
siderable unit in the population of the vastest 
city in the world ; or, rather, not a unit — a 
cipher. And, don't you see, a man to be 
worthy of your exalted kinswoman ought to 
be a celebrity. There are plenty of them 




" What meanest thou by a celebrity?" 
inquired Fakrash, falling into the trap more 
readily than Horace had ventured to hope. 

" Oh, well, a distinguished person, whose 
name is on everybody's lips, who is honoured 
and praised by all his fellow -citizens. Now, 
thai kind of man no Jinneeyeh could look 
down upon/ 1 

" I perceive," said Fakrash, thoughtfully, 
"Yes, I was in danger of committing a rash 
action. How do men honour such dis- 
tinguished individuals in these days? " 

"They generally overfeed them/' said 
Horace. M In London the highest honour a 
hero can be paid is to receive the freedom of 
the City, which is only conferred in very 
exceptional cases, and for some notable 
service. But, of course, there are other 
sorts of celebrities, as you could see if you 
glanced through the society papers-" 

u I cannot believe that thou, who seemest 
a gracious and talented young Elian, can be 
indeed so obscure as thou hast represented-*' 

** My good sir, any of the flowers that 
blush unseen in the desert air, or the gems 
concealed in ocean caves, so excellently 
described by one of our 
poets, could give me 
points and a beating in 
the matter of notoriety. 
I'll make you a sporting 
offer, There are over 
five million inhabitants 
in this London of ours. 
If you go out into the 
streets and ask the first 
five hundred you meet 
whether they know me, 
I don't mind betting 
you —what shall I say? 
a new hat — that you 
wont find half-a-dozen 
who've ever even heard 
of my existence. Why 
not go out and see for 
yourself? 1 ' 

To his surprise and 
gratification the Jinnee 
took this suggestion 
seriously. "I will go 
forth and make inquiry," 
he said, "for 1 desire 
further enlightenment 
concerning thy state- 
ments. But, remember/ 3 
he added: M should I 
still require thee to wed 
the matchless Bedeea-el- 
Jemal, and thou should'st 


disobey me, thou wilt bring disaster, not on 
thine own head, but on those thou art most 
desirous of protecting*" 

" Yes, so you told me before," said Horace, 
brusquely. "Good evening.'. But Fakrash 
was already gone. In spite of all he had 
gone through and the unknown difficulties 
before him, Ventimore was seized with wh:it 
Uncle Remus calls "a spell of the dry grins TJ 
at the thought of the probable replies that 
the Jinnee would meet with in the course of 
his inquiries. " I'm afraid he won't be 
particularly impressed by the politeness of a 
London crowd," he thought ; " but at least 
they'll convince him that I am not exactly a 
prominent citizen. Then he'll give up this 
idiotic match of his — I don't know, though. 
He's such a pig-headed old fool that he may 
stick to it all the same. I may find myself 
encumbered with a Jinneeyeh bride several 
centuries my senior before I know where I 
am. No, I forgot; there's the jealous 
Jarjarees to be polished off first. I seem to 
remember something about a quick change 
combat with an Efreet in the * Arabian 
Nights/ I may as well look it up, and see 
whaL may be in store 
for me." 

And after dinner he 
went to his shelves and 
took down Lane's three- 
volume edition of "The 
Arabian Nights/ 1 which 
he set himself to study 
with a new interest- It 
was long since he had 
looked into these won- 
drous tales, old beyond 
all human calculation, 
and fresher, even now, 
than the most modern 
of .successful romances. 
After all, he was tempted 
to think, they might 
possess quite as much 
historical value as many 
works with graver pre- 
tensions to accuracy- 
He found a full 
account of the combat 
with the Efreet in the 
"Story of the Second 
Royal Mendicant" in 
the first volume, and 
was unpleasantly sur- 
prised to discover that 
the Efreet's name was 
actually given as 
ia^-ichQ/h al"fJao*rees, the son of 




Rejmoos, the son of Iblees " — evidently 
the same person to whom Fakrash had 
referred as his bitterest foe. He was 
described as "of hideous aspect," and 
had, it seemed, not only carried oft the 
daughter of the Lord of the Ebony Island 
on her wedding night, but, on discovering 
her in the society of the Royal Mendicant, 
had revenged himself by striking off her 
hands, her feet, and her head, and transform- 
ing his human rival into an ape. " Between 
this fellow and old Fakrash," he reflected, 
ruefully, at this point, " I seem likely to have 
a fairly lively time of it ! " 

He read on till he reached the memorable 
encounter between the King's daughter and 
Jarjarees, who presented himself " in a most 
hideous shape, with hands like winnowing 
forks, and legs like masts, and eyes like 
burning torches" — which was calculated to 
unnerve the stoutest novice. The Efreet began 
by transforming himself from a lion to a 
scorpion, upon which the Princess became a 
serpent ; then he changed to an eagle, and 
she to a vulture ; he to a black cat, and she 
to a wolf; he to a burst pomegranate, and 
she to a cock ; he to a fish, and she to a 
larger fish still. 

M If Fakrash can shove me through all that 
without a fatal hitch somewhere," Ventimore 
told himself, " I shall be agreeably dis- 
appointed in him." But, after reading a few 
more lines, he cheered up. For the Efreet 
finished as a flame, and the Princess as a 
"body of fire." "And when we looked 
towards him," continued the narrator, " we 
perceived that he had become a heap of 

" Come," said Horace to himself, " that 
puts Jarjarees out of action, any way ! The 
odd thing is that Fakrash should never have 
heard of it." 

But, as he saw on reflection, it was not so 
very odd after all, as the incident had pro- 
bably happened after the Jinnee had been 
consigned to his brass bottle, where intelli- 
gence of any kind would be most unlikely to 
reach him. 

He worked steadily through the whole of 
the second volume and part of the third, 
but, although he picked up a certain amount 
of information upon Oriental habits and 
modes of thought and speech which might 
come in usefully later, it was not until he 
arrived at the 24th Chapter of the third 
volume that his interest really revived. 

For the 24th Chapter contained "The 
Story of Seyf-el-Mulook and Bedeea-el- 
Jemal," and it was only natural that he 

Digitized by \*jt 

should be anxious to know all that there was 
to know concerning the antecedents of one 
who might be his fiancee before long. He 
read eagerly. 

Bedeea, it appeared, was the lovely 
daughter of Shahyal, one of the Kings of 
the Believing Jann ; her father (not Fakrash, 
as the Jinnee had incorrectly represented) had 
offered her in marriage to no less a personage 
than King Solomon himself, who, however, 
had preferred the Queen of Sheba. Seyf, the 
son of the King of Egypt, afterwards fell 
desperately in love with Bedeea, but she 
and her grandmother both declared that 
between mankind and the Jann there could 
be no agreement. 

" And Seyf was a King's son ! "' com- 
mented Horace. " I needn't alarm myself. 
She wouldn't be likely to have anything to 
say to me. It's just as I told Fakrash." 

His heart grew lighter still as he came 
to the end, for he learnt that, after many 
adventures which need not be mentioned 
here, the devoted Seyf did actually succeed 
in gaining the proud Bedeea as his wife. 
" Even Fakrash could not propose to marry 
me to someone who has a husband already," 
he thought. " Still, she may be a widow ! " 

To his relief, however, the conclusion ran 
thus: "Seyf-el-Mulook lived with Bedeea-el- 
Jemal a most pleasant and agreeable life . . . 
until they were visited by the terminator of 
delights and the separator of companions." 

" If that means anything at all," he 
reasoned, " it means that Seyf and Bedeea 
are both deceased. Even a Jinneeyeh seems 
to be mortal. As perhaps she became so by 
marrying a mortal, I daresay that Fakrash 
himself wouldn't have lasted all this time if 
he hadn't been bottled, like a tinned tomato. 
But I'm glad I found this out, because 
Fakrash is evidently unaware of it, and, if he 
should persist in any more of this nonsense, 
I think I see my way now to getting the 
better of him." 

So, with renewed hope and in vastly 
improved spirits, he went to bed and was 
soon sound asleep. 



It was rather late the next morning when 
Ventimore opened his eyes, to discover the 
Jinnee standing by the foot of his bed. 
" Oh, it's you, is it ? " he said, sleepily. 
" How did you— a — get on last night? " 

11 1 gained such information as I desired," 
said Fakrash, guardedly ; " and now, for the 
last time,r^j^|fl a <pfpv^-,,to ask thee whether 




thou wilt still persist in refusing to wed the 
illustrious Bedeea-el-Jemal? And have a 
care how thou answeresL" 

u So you haven't given up the idea ? " said 
Horace. li Well, since you make such a 
point of it, I'll meet you as far as this. If 
you produce the lady, and she consents to 
marry me, I won't decline the honour, But 
there's one condition I really must insist 

" It is not for thee to make stipulations. 
Still, yet this once I will hear thee," 

"I'm sure you'll see that it's only fair. 
Supposing, for any reason, you can't persuade 
the Princess to meet me within a reasonable 
time— shall we say a week ? " 

" Thou shalt 
be admitted to 
her presence 
within twenty- 
four hours," 
said the Jinnee. 

"That's bet- 
ter still. Then, 
if I don't see 
her within 
t we n t y-fou r 
hours, I am to 
be at liberty to 
infer that the 
negotiations are 
off, and I may 
marry anybody 
else I please, 
without any 
opposition from 
you? Is that 
understood ? " 

M It is agreed/ 1 
said Fakrash, 
" for I am con- 
fident that 
Bedeea Mill accept thee joyfully." 

"We shall see," said Horace, u But it 
might be as well if you went and prepared 
her a little. I suppose you know where to 
find her — and you've only twenty-four hours, 
you know,' 1 

" More than is needed," answered the 
Jinnee, with such child-like confidence that 
Horace felt almost ashamed of so easy a 
victory. "But the sun is already high. Arise, 
my son, put on these robes "—and with this he 
flung on the bed the magnificent raiment 
which Venttmore had last worn on the night 
of his disastrous entertainment — "and when 
thou hast broken thy fast, prepare to accom- 
pany me. 7 ' 

" Before I agree to that," said Horace, 

sitting up in bed, "I should like to know 
where you're taking me to," 

"Obey me without demur/ 1 said Fakrash, 
" or thou knowest the consequences/' 

It seemed to Horace that it was as well to 
humour him, and he got up accordingly, 
washed and shaved, and, putting on his 
dazzling robe of cloth-of-gold thickly sewn 
with gems ? he joined Fakrash — who, by the 
way, was similarly, if less gorgeously, arrayed 
— in the sitting-room, in a state of some 

"Eat quickly," commanded the Jinnee, 
"for the time is short/' And Horace, after 
hastily disposing of a cold poached egg and 

a cup of coffee, happened 

to go to the windows* 
"Good heavens!' 1 he 

cried. "What does all 

this mean ?" 

Vol- **.— 10, 



He might well ask. On the opposite side 
of the road, by the railings of the square, a 
large crowd had collected, all staring at the 
house in eager expectation. As they caught 
sight of him they raised a cheer, which 
caused him to retreat in confusion, but not 
before he had seen a great golden chariot 
with six magnificent coal - black horses, 
and a suite of swarthy attendants in 
barbaric liveries, standing by the pave- 
ment below. "Whose carriage is that?" 
he asked, 

" It belongs to thee,' 1 said the Jinnee ; 
Original from 




make thy progress in 

"descend then, and 
it through the City." 

" I will not," said Horace, 
oblige you I simply can't drive 
streets in a thing like the band-chariot of a 
travelling circus." 

"It is necessary," declared Fakrash. 

" Even to 
along the 

11 Must I again recall to 
thee the penalty of dis- 
obedience ? " 

" Oh, very well," said 
Horace, irritably. " If you 
insist on my making a fool 
of myself, I suppose I must. 
But where am I to drive, and why?" 

"That," replied Fakrash, "thou shalt 
discover at the fitting moment." And so, 
amidst the shouts of the spectators, Venti- 
more climbed up into the strange -looking 

by L^OOgle 

vehicle, while the Jinnee took his seat by his 
side. Horace had a parting glimpse of Mr. 
and Mrs. Rapkin's respective noses flattened 
against the basement window, and then two 
dusky slaves mounted to a seat at the back 
of the chariot, and the horses started off at 
a stately trot in the direction of Rochester 

" I think you might 
tell me what all this 
means," he said. "You've 
no conception what an 
ass I feel, stuck up here 
like this!" 

" Dismiss bashfulness 

from thee, since all this 

is designed to render thee 

more acceptable in the 

eyes of the Princess 

Bedeea," said the Jinnee. 

Horace said no 

more,, though he 

could not but 

think that this 

parade would be 

thrown away. 

But as they 
turned into 
Victoria Street 
and seemed to 
be heading 
straight for the 
Abbey, a horrible 
thought occurred 
to him. After 
all, his only 
authority for the 
m arri age and 
decease of Bedeea 
was the "Arabian 
Nights," which 
was not unim- 
peachable evi- 
dence. What if 
she were alive 
and waiting for 
the arrival 
of the bride- 
groom ? No 
one but 
F a k r a s h 
would have 
such an idea 
as marrying him to a Jinneeyeh in West- 
minster Abbey ; but he was capable of any 
extravagance, and there were apparently no 
limits to his power. 

" Mr. Fakrash," he said, hoarsely, " surely 






this isn't my — my wedding day ? You're not 
going to have the ceremony there ? " 

" Nay," said the Jinnee, " be not im- 
patient. For this edifice would be totally 
unfitted for the celebration of such nuptials 
as thine." 

As he spoke, the chariot left the Abbey on 
the right and turned down the Embankment. 
The relief was so intense that Horace's 
spirits rose irrepressibly. It was absurd to 
suppose that even Fakrash 
could have arranged the cere- 
mony in so short a time. He 
was merely being taken for a 
drive, and fortunately his best 
friends could not recognise him 
in his Oriental disguise. And 
it was a glorious morning, with 
a touch of frost in the air and 
a sky of streaky turquoise and 
pale golden clouds; the broad 
river glittered in the sunshine ; 
the pavements were lined with 
admiring crowds, and the car- 
riage rolled on amidst frantic 
enthusiasm, like some triumphal 

" How they're cheering us ! " 
said Horace. "Why, they 
couldn't make more row for 
the Lord Mayor himself." 

"What is this Lord Mayor 
of whom thou speakest?" in- 
quired Fakrash. 

"The Lord Mayor?" said 
Horace. " Oh, he's unique. 
There's nobody in the world 
quite like him. He admin- 
isters the law, and if there's any distress 
in any part of the earth he relieves it. 
He entertains monarchs and Princes 
and all kinds of potentates at his 
banquets, and altogether he's a tremendous 

" Hath he dominion over the earth and 
the air and all that is therein ? " 

"Within his own precincts, T believe he 
has," said Horace, rather hazily, " but I really 
don't know precisely how wide his powers 
are." He was vainly trying to recollect 
whether such matters as sky-signs, telephones, 
and telegraphs in the City were within the 
Lord Mayor's jurisdiction or the County 

Fakrash remained silent just as they 
were driving underneath Charing Cross 
Railway Bridge, when he started perceptibly 
at the thunder of the trains overhead 
and the piercing whistles of the engines. 

Digitized by Gi 

"Tell me," he said, clutching Horace by the 
arm, " what meaneth this ? " 

"You don't mean to say," said Horace, 
" that you have been about London all these 
days, and never noticed things like these 

"Till now," said the Jinnee, " I have had 
no leisure to observe them and discover 
their nature." 

" Well," said Horace, anxious to let the 


Jinnee see that he had not the monopoly of 
miracles, "since your day we have discovered 
how to tame or chain the great forces of 
Nature and compel them to do our will. We 
control the Spirits of Earth, Air, Fire, and 
Water, and make them give us light and 
heat, carry our messages, fight our quarrels 
for us, transport us wherever we wish to go, 
with a certainty and precision that throw 
even your performances, my dear sir, entirely 
into the shade." 

Considering what a very large majority of 
civilized persons would be as powerless to 
construct the most elementary machine as to 
create the humblest kind of horse, it is not a 


7 6 


little odd how complacently we credit our- 
selves with all the latest achievements of our 
generation. Most of us accept the amaze- 
ment of the simple-minded barbarian on his 
first introduction to modern inventions as a 
gratifying personal tribute : we feel a certain 
superiority, even if we magnanimously refrain 
from boastfulness. And yet our own 
particular share in these discoveries is 
limited to making use of them, under expert 
guidance, which any barbarian, after over- 
coming his first terror, is quite as competent 
to do as we are. 

It is a harmless vanity enough, and 
especially pardonable in Ventimore's case, 
when it was so desirable to correct any 
tendency to " uppishness " on the part of the 

"And doth the Lord Mayor dispose of 
these forces at his will ? " inquired Fakrash, 
on whom Ventimore's explanation had 
evidently produced some impression. 

"Certainly," said Horace; "whenever he 
has occasion." 

The Jinnee seemed engrossed in his 
own thoughts, for he said no more just 

They were now nearing St. Paul's Cathe- 
dral, and Horace's first suspicion returned 
with double force. 

"Mr. Fakrash, answer me," he said. "Is 
this my wedding day or not? If it is, it's 
time I was told ! " 

" Not yet," said the Jinnee, enigmatically, 
and indeed it proved to be another false 
alarm, for they turned down Cannon Street 
and towards the Mansion House. 

"Perhaps you can tell me why we're going 
through Victoria Street, and what all this 
crowd has come out for?" asked Ventimore. 
For the throng was denser than ever; the 
people surged and swayed in serried ranks 
behind the City police, and gazed with a 
wonder and awe that for once seemed to 
have entirely silenced the Cockney instinct of 

"For what else but to do thee honour?" 
answered Fakrash. 

"What bosh!" said Horace. "They 
mistake me for the Shah or somebody — and 
no wonder, in this get-up." 

"Not so," said the Jinnee. "Thy names 
are familiar to them." 

Horace glanced up at the hastily improvised 
decorations ; on one large strip of bunting 
which spanned the street he read : " Welcome 
to the City's most distinguished guest ! " 
" They can't mean me," he thought ; and 
then another legend caught his eye : " Well 

by LiOOgle 

done, Ventimore ! " And an enthusiastic 
householder next door had burst into poetry 
and displayed the couplet : — 

Would we had twenty more 
Like Horace Ventimore ! 

"They do mean me," he exclaimed. 
" Now, Mr. Fakrash, will you kindly 
explain what tomfoolery you've been up 
to now ? I know you're at the bottom of 
this business." 

It struck him that the Jinnee was slightly 
embarrassed. " Didst thou not say," he 
replied, " that he who should receive the 
freedom of the City from his fellow-men 
would be worthy of Bedeea-el-Jemal ? " 

" I may have said something of the sort. 
But, good heavens, you don't mean that you 
have contrived that / should receive the 
freedom of the City ? " 

" It was the easiest affair possible," said 
the Jinnee, but he did not attempt to meet 
Horace's eye. 

" Was it, though?" said Horace, in a white 
rage. " I don't want to be inquisitive, but 1 
should like to know what I've done to 
deserve it?" 

" Why trouble thyself with the reason ? 
Let it suffice thee that such honour is be- 
stowed upon thee." 

By this time the chariot had crossed Cheap- 
side and was entering King Street. 

"This really won't do!" urged Horace. 
" It's not fair to me. Either I've done 
something, or you must have made the 
Corporation believe I've done something, to 
be received like this. And, as we shall be 
in the Guildhall in a very few seconds, you 
may as well tell me what it is ! " 

" Regarding that matter," replied the 
Jinnee, in some confusion, " I am truly as 
ignorant as thyself." 

As he spoke they drove through some 
temporary wooden gates into the courtyard, 
where the Honourable Artillery Company 
presented arms to them, and the carriage 
drew up before a large marquee decorated 
with shields and clustered banners. 

"Well, Mr. Fakrash," said Horace, with 
suppressed fury, as he alighted, "you have 
surpassed yourself this time. You've got 
me into a nice scrape, and you'll have to pull 
me through it as well as you can." 

" Have no uneasiness," said the Jinnee, 
as he accompanied his protege into the 
marquee, which was brilliant with pretty 
women in smart frocks, officers in scarlet 
tunics and plumed hats, and servants in 
State liveries. Their entrance was greeted 
by a politely-subdued buzz of applause and 




admiration, and an official, who introduced 
himself as the Prime Warden of the Candle- 
stick-makers' Company, advanced to meet 
them. "The Lord Mayor will receive you 
in the library," he said. " If you will have 

the kindness to follow me " 

Horace followed him me- 
chanically. "I'm in for it 
now/ 7 he thought, "whatever it 
is. If I can only trust Fakrash 
to back me up— but I'm hanged 
if I don't believe he's 
more nervous than 
I am ! " 

As they came into 
the noble library of 
the Guildhall a fine 
string band struck 
up, and Horace, 
with the Jinnee in 
his rear, made his 
way through a lane 
of distinguished 
spectators towards a 
dais, on the steps 
of which, in his gold- 
trimmed robes and 
black - feathered hat, 
stood the Lord 
Mayor, with his 
sword and mace 
bearers on either 
hand, and behind 
him a row of beam- 
ing sheriffs. 

A truly stately and 
imposing figure did 
the Chief Magistrate 
for that particular 
year present : tall, 
dignified, with a 

lofty forehead whose polished temples 
reflected the light, an aquiline nose, and 
piercing black eyes under heavy white eye- 
brows, a frosty pmk in his wrinkled cheeks, 
and a flowing silver beard with a touch of gold 
still lingering under the lower lip: he seemed 
as he stood there a worthy representative of 
the greatest and richest city in the world. 

Horace approached the steps with 
an unpleasant sensation of weakness 
at the knees, and no sort of idea 
what he was expected to do or say when 
he arrived. 


And, in his perplexity, he turned for 
support and guidance to his self-constituted 
mentor— only to discover that the Jinnee, 
whose short-sightedness and ignorance had 
planted him in his present false position, had 
mysteriously and perfidiously disappeared, 
and left him to grapple with the situation 

(To be continued.) 

by Google 

Original from 

A nimai A c futilities. 

THIS is a tale of the mysterious power ot 
articulate speech and its effect in calming 
the more or less savage breast. Mr. F. W, 
Millard, of Hoddcsdon, in Hertfordshire?, 
possesses a very fine tom cat. This Tom, 

unhappy sparrow ea light with wet wings in 
a shower goes towards Dick's maintenance. 
And there is no positive reason to suppose 
him altogether averse from pigeon, 

Hut lately Dick sustained a sad shock; a 
shock that has altogether shattered his con- 
fidence in dealing with birds* A neighbour 


whose name is Dick, is lord of a fine tract keeps a parrot, which is sufficiently tame to 

of surrounding gardens and partial to poultry, be let loose occasionally, and sufficiently well- 

His master's cocks and hens he spares, educated to proclaim its freedom by voluble 

having a proper fear of his master, but any and extremely distinct talk, Dick was start 


Original from 




ing on an ornithological expedition, when He retreated. Polly showered shrill abuse 

suddenly the parrot alighted on a fence before after him, and he retreated farther still. 

his eyes. Here was a gorgeous prize, almost Could he believe his ears? What terrible 

within Dick's mouth, Red beak, green wings creature was this, that talked like a man? 


— beautiful, and no doubt as toothsome as 
handsome, J )ick crouched and crept. But 
Polly was watch- 
ing from the 
comer of her eye, 
and, just as Dick 
stiffened for the 
spring, bawled 
aloud in his face, 
"That's right! 
Come alont; 1 " 

Poor Dick was 
struck as by an 
electric shock. 

Never again did Dick make an attempt on 
Polly ; but, now that he has gained sufficient 

confidence, sits 
reverently below 
the parrot, quiet 
and awe- struck > 
listening. After 
each perform- 
ance Dick re- 
pairs to a corner, 
and thinks. It 
is conjectured 
that he is taking 


by Google 

Original from 

Boiler Explosions. 

By Joseph Horner. 

Illustrated by Photos, kindly lent by Mr. C. E. Stromeyer, Chief Engineer the Manchester 

Steam Users' Association. 

HE explosions of steam boilers 
are, happily, now more rare 
in proportion to the number 
in use than they were a gene- 
ration since. The reason is 
that such explosions may now 
involve the owners of the boilers in a heavy 
pecuniary loss, over and above that due to 
the damage to their property. A Board of 
Trade Commissioner — Mr. Howard Smith — 
is invested with the power to hold an 
inquiry into the causes of boiler explosions. 
He has plenary authority to assess damages 
towards the costs of the Court, and woe be 
to any boiler-owner to whom culpable neglect 
is brought home. These inquiries are of a 
most searching character, and much expert 
evidence is often called. It may also be 
mentioned, by the way, that there are com- 
paratively few cases of boiler explosions in 
which some degree of wilful negligence is 
not proved. But it is not always possible to 
fix the responsibility on the right person or 
persons. Not infrequently, too, the culpable 
man is killed. 

The insurance companies cannot compel 
proprietors to carry out the suggestions made 
by their inspectors, but it goes hard with the 
proprietors when evidence of neglect to 
adopt such suggestions is proved before the 
Commissioner. In one case a boiler insur- 
ance company was fined £$o for neglecting 
to use sufficiently strong and explicit con- 
demnatory language to the proprietors in 
reference to a boiler of theirs which exploded 
while insured with the company. 

The Manchester Steam Users' Association 
was the pioneer in boiler insurance, and it 
was due to the persistent efforts of the late 
Mr. Lavington Fletcher, the chief engineer 
of the association, that the Boiler Explosions 
Act was carried. Now, with proper inspec- 
tion, there is, practically, no risk of a serious 
explosion occurring. 

There is now, therefore, no mystery at all 
about boiler explosions. Previous to the 
formation of the various insurance societies, 
and the passing of the Boiler Explosions Act 
in 1882, all kinds of mysterious agencies were 
invoked to account for these disasters. It is 
now well known, however, that any explosion 
is traceable to some very matter-of-fact cause 
or causes. There is a specific reason for 
each. But all, however numerous and varied 
in character, may be included under one or 

Digitized by G< 

more of three heads, namely : bad design, 
bad construction, or bad working. Into the 
technical details of these we shall not enter. 
But they are all preventible, all inexcusable. 
If proof were asked, it is sufficient to instance 
the fact that while about 20,000 locomotive 
boilers, which are the hardest worked of any, 
are in use daily through the kingdom, 
explosions of such are now practically un- 
known. The explanation is that they are 
well designed, well made, well tended, and 
are withdrawn from service before they 
become unsafe. 

Steam boilers offer in some respects 
analogies to human organisms. They have 
their lives to live ; are subject to weakness, 
diseases, and certain death ; which death 
may come either in the course of natural 
decay, by the ravages of chronic or acute 
disease, or by accident. Their lives are 
insured in many cases, but the policy, unlike 
those on human lives, will in most cases 
never have to be paid, since it is an accident 
policy only. 

In short, steam boilers are subjected to so 
many ills that there is a class of men — the 
boiler inspectors — whose lives are spent in 
diagnosing their complaints : testing, sound- 
ing, peering and prying within and without, 
visiting their patients two or three times in 
the course of a year, and reporting on their 
condition. Another class of men is occupied 
in analyzing the waters with which boilers 
are supplied, and in preparing antidotes to 
counteract the evil effects of incessant drink- 
ing of bad water. 

In among sooty flues and furnaces, 
through water spaces, with lamp, candle, 
and hammer ; with good eyes, sharpened by 
experience, and which can detect hidden 
faults that no ordinary observer would note, 
the boiler inspector pursues his diagnosis. 
It is a hard and thankless task at best, and, 
strangely enough, the greatest obstacles of 
all are not found in the hard work of inspect- 
ing the boilers, nor in having to satisfy and 
please his superintendent, but too often in 
the owners of boilers, who frequently grudge 
the outlay which is the price of safety. 
These, instead of aiding the work of the 
inspector, sometimes put obstacles in his 

When a boiler does burst the effects are 
terrific, as disastrous as the damage inflicted 
by a park of artillery. Plates of iron or steel 




from three-eighths to five-eighths of an inch 
thick are rent and twisted like paper, and 
sent flying scores or hundreds of yards away, 
dealing mutilation and death in their course, 
and wrecking adjacent buildings. Volumes 
of steam and water, hotter by many degrees 
than that which boils in an open vessel on 
the fire, doom those who escape the flying 
fragments to torture and a death even more 
awful, The harrowing scene which meets 
the eyes of the rescuers immediately after 
such a catastrophe, and before the dead and 
injured are removed, is one over which a veil 
must he drawn- 
Vet inspectors test steam -boilers at a 
pressure which is very high — always higher 
than that at which they are intended to be 
worked— generally from 30 to 50 per cent, 
more, Boilers have sometimes exploded at 
a lower pressure than that at which they had 
been previously tested. When boilers yield 

Redcar Iron Works, in Yorkshire, on the 
evening of the 14th June, 1895, a photo- 
graph of which is here reproduced. Out of a 
range of fifteen boilers which were used to 
supply steam to the blast and other engines, 
twelve burst, killing three men, and injuring 
seventeen others, of whom eight died sub- 
sequently. Showers of bricks and dirt rained 
over the place ; the men who were at the 
furnaces were enveloped in a deluge of boil- 
ing water and steam ; while, to add to the 
horror, some who fled had to run over pig 
beds of red-hot iron. Some too were nearly 
bereft of their clothes. 

Of the Iwilers, some parts weighing several 
tons —one being iofL long — were carried two 
hundred and fifty yards away. Portions 50ft* 
long were hurled into a field, in which they 
dug deep trenches. A tank locomotive close 
by was embedded in dii*ris up to the foot- 
plate, and stripped of the fittings in the cab* 

Front a rh&ta. by J. S. H&$$itrd t EiXtikatt*, ftrdear^ 

under test, as they sometimes do, they do 
not explode with violence, and no damage 
is inflicted to those standing by. The 
difference is due to this— that the inspectors 
test is made under water pressure, but a 
boiler explosion occurs under steam pressure. 

The following paragraphs relate to some of 
the most remarkable and disastrous ex plosions 
vhich are on record, briefly noting the 
reasons of their occurrence. 

The most terrible boiler explosion which 
has ever occurred in England was that at the 

A large crane capable of lifting six tons was 
smashed to pieces. Shops a hundred and 
fifty yards away from the boilers had their 
windows broken and roofs riddled. 

These terrible explosions were due to the 
overheating of the first boiler, which, burst- 
ing, then started the series, The boilers 
were of a class which has long been dis- 
trusted the egg-ended type externally fired; 
which is peculiarly liable because of its great 
length to unequal expansion at top and 
bottom, if the latter prirt becomes overheated* 





When two or more boilers thus burst 
simultaneously, the term "compound explo- 
sion " is applied. It dues not mean thai the 
explosions occur at the same instant, but 
that one boiler bursting inflicts injuries upon 
one adjacent, dislodging it from its seat, and 
starting a rent which results in its explosion, 
similar effects being communicated to other 
boilers* On one occasion five boilers burst 
thus simultaneously. This was in April, 
1863, at Moss End Iron Works, near 

The two ends of the locomotive in the 
illustration above was a sight presented 
at Shupasturc Junction, Darlington, on May 
10th, 1867* The engine belonged to the 
North- Eastern Railway Company, and at 
the time of the explosion was attached to 
a mineral train 
standing on a sid- 
ing near the junc- 
tion. The driver 
was underneath 
oiling the eccen- 
trics when the 
boiler barrel (*•&, 
the long cylin- 
drical portion that 
cot meets the fur- 
nace at the rear 
with the smoke- 
box under the 
chimney) burst, 
being ripped into 
many fragments, 
which crumpled 
like paper. The 
driver was blown to 
pieces and the fire- 
man badly scalded. 

On June 9th, 
1869, a particularly 
shocking explosion 

occurred at King- 
ley, Yorkshire, at 
the works of 
Messrs. J. Town 
and Sons 1 bobbin 
turnery. The 
works were situated 
at the rear of the 
National School, 
and eight little 
children who were 
at play at the 
time were killed, 
besides several 
work people. Mr. 
Fletcher, of the 
Manchester Steam Users * Association, stated 
before the coroner that he had found the 
bottom plates no thicker than paper ! The 
accompanying picture shows the scene of the 
disaster. The proprietors were "censured" 
only ! 

The fearful wreck seen on the next page 
occurred at Ashley Lane, Manchester, on 
December 23rd, 1867, at the dye-works of 
Messrs. Chapman and Hollands, Portions of 
the boiler — a Cornish one, 18ft long by 6ft. in 
diameter --are seen amidst^ the ruins of the 
works, which it utterly demolished. Six poor 
fellows were killed, not by scalding,, but by 
the fall of the buildings. The coroner's 
verdict was "Accidental death/' but the jury 
found that great neglect was attributable to 
the employers. Something more severe 







would have been meted out had such a thing 
happened in these days of Board of Trade 
inquiries. For the boiler had been shame- 
fully neglected, and the bottom plates which 
had rested on the brickwork were found no 
thicker than brown paper throughout nearly 
their entire length* Such gross cases of 
neglect as these helped to hasten legis 
lation for dealing with boiler 

The utter wreck here seen 
occurred at Messrs. Strong 
and Sons' Iron Foundry, 



Hammond Lane, Dublin, on April 27th, 
[8;<S. Fourteen lives were sacrificed, in- 
cluding those of several persons who were 
not in the employ of the firm, and fourteen 
were injured. The first portion of the boiler 
was shot right across Hammond Lane, and 
lodged against the doorway of a house oppo- 
site. The rupture started from a plate at 
the bottom, which had been corroded to 
less than a thirty second of an inch in 
thickness. The boiler, a Cornish one, 
measured more than 20ft* in length and over 
6ft. in diameter, but only a piece of bent 

plate is seen re- 
maining amid the 
wreck. Want of 
inspection was 
responsible for 
this heavily fatal 

The ragged- 
looking half of a 
boiler plate seen 
on the following 
page has a tragic 
history. It formed 
a portion of one 
end of a boiler 
that killed six 
persons, includ- 
ing the senior 
partner of the 
firm to whom it 
belonged* This 
happened on 

oi$fi tober 9th > 

8 4 


FKOM IKK HA LI l> AX F V I'l.O^h :>\, tK 

From a fhoto bg E Grtavet, livlifr*. 

1879, at the works of Messrs* Balme and 
Pritchard, of Halifax, The steam pressure 
was only 45II), to the square inch, yet the 
boiler was carried bodily to a distance of 
102ft. through a workshop, spreading ruin in 
its course, and was only stopped by striking 
the angle of a house. 'Hie plate was not 
properly stayed, the owners had put difficul 
ties in the way of 
inspection, and* as 
a matter of fact, 
nearly four and a 
half years had 
elapsed since the 
interior had been 
inspected ! 

The boiler seen 
in the illustration 
on this page found 
that resting-place 
- a room on the 
upper -floor of a 
public-house into 
which it crashed 
through the roof 
— after a journey 
of fifty yards. The 
injury to the boiler 
itself is invisible, 
being internal, and 
consisting of a 
rupture of the 
crown of the fire- 
box. Fortunately 
no one was killed. 

But the owner had to pay ^50 
into court, for this happened 
so recently as March 4th, 1892, 
and the Commissioners of the 
Board of Trade adjudicated 
upon it. The boiler had a 
chequered history typical of 
many others, having changed 
owners several times, including 
those of second-hand brokers. 
A boiler insurance company 
had warned the owner in 
present possession that it was 
unsafe, but no notice was taken, 
with the result that it went 
through the roof of its house, 
It was a serious case, and the 
fine inflicted was properly made 

On the morning of the Sth 
of May, 1886, the boiler of a 
tug, Tfie Rifleman, blew up in 
Cardiff Harbour. The crew, 
comprising four men and a 
boy, were all killed, It is supposed they 
were standing round the boiler, warming 
themselves. The bodies of the four men 
were carried into the air, and alighted on 
the head of the pier, one at a distance of 
fifty yards. The violence of the explosion 
wrecked the vessel, so that she sank imme- 
diately ; and a pilot, who was in the fore 

»TI.« CHO, S KKVs »,■ «*v^^,^„^^j,^ 



PfuXQ. .'.V| 


cabin at the time, was picked up from the 
water unconscious. The shell of the boiler 
was shot to a great length, and dropped at a 
distance of three hundred yards on the .stem 
of an Italian ship, killing a man who was stand- 
ing at the wheel. The captain of a tug was also 
struck by the dchrh, and had, in conse- 
quence, several ribs broken. It came out at 
the inquest that the safety-valve had been 

held down with a 
man survived he 
would have been 
indicted for man- 

An explosion of 
this kind suggests 
one possible ex- 
planation of the 
record of steam 
vessels the loss of 
which has never 
been accounted 
for. It is reason- 
able to suppose, 
in the absence of 
direct evidence, 
that a very violent 
explosion of one 
or more boilers 
— and there are 
several on board 
large steamers — 

pin ! Had the engine- 

may produce a 
rent in the hull 
sufficiently large 
to sink a steamer 
before boats could 
be got out. 

On the after- 
noon of Saturday, 
February 16th, 
1 895 j a terrible 
explosion of the 
boiler of an agri- 
cultural engine 
occurred at Manor 
Farm, Yeovil ton, 
in Somersetshire* 
The engine had 
been working — 
doing thrashing 
all day. About 
four in the after- 
noon, some of 
the farm hands 
having gone 
home, others 
were sitting round 
the engine to eat t 
the weather being cold, when the boiler ex- 
ploded- The driver, Hann, was blown into 
a rick close by, which immediately caught 
fire, and the man was charred to death, his 
skeleton only being recovered later. Another 
man, Ferry, was mutilated so terribly as to 
be scarcely recognisable, Other men suf- 
fered from scalds and broken limbs, 

The force of the explosion was such that 
the engine, which weighed about three tons, 

CAktHPF, MAV 8> t386. 


Fhcia, M 

'djiokftr t6 1 1893, [J. OutffiA. 




was lifted in the air, and carried to a dis- 
tance of twenty-six yards. Perry's hat was 
picked tip a hundred yards away ; fragments of 
the engine were thrown about ; the fire was 
scattered— setting fire to ricks in the vicinity; 
and the local fire brigade only extinguished 
the flames after much damage had been 
done. In this case the engine was about 
thirty years old. It had no gauge to register 
pressure, the fire- box 
was badly corroded, 
and it appeared as if 
the safety-valve had 
been screwed down, 
to increase pressure. 

One of the prin- 
cipal "methods by 
which boilers have 
been tested is by 
working them to 
destruction, and ob- 
serving their beha- 
viour* This is almost 
invariably done under 
water pressure* But 
in one series of ex- 
periments in America 
boilers were tested 
under steam pressure, 
and the actual explo- 
sion of one of these 
was witnessed by a 
large number of per- 
sons. The boilers 
were set in a ravine, 
and the pressure 
gauges were brought 
behind a bomb-proof 
structure only 3ft. away, In one of these 
experiments the steam pressure mounted up 
in eleven minutes from 301b. to 50th., and two 
minutes afterwards the explosion occurred. 
One portion, weighing about three tons, was 
hurled to a great height in the air, and fell 
at 450ft, away from the original position of 
the boiler. 

The explosions of kitchen boilers are 
responsible for the loss of several lives and 
the destruction of much property^ whenever 
a hard winter, occurs. In the hard weather 
of February, iftys, there were four such 
explosions in one day, the 7th ; on the next 
day nine boilers burst ; on the next, four 
more. By the middle of that month six 
people had lost their lives and thirty-four 
had been injured. In the winter previous, 
during two short frosts, nineteen persons 
were killed and fifty -four injured, Explo- 

Digitized by G* 


sions of this character are due to stupidity 
or carelessness. The simple and sufficient 
remedy is, never to let the water become 
quite cold in hard weather, and this can be 
insured by banking the fire at night. 

The broken kitchen range seen on this 
page has a tragic history of one life lost arid 
two persons seriously injured, and caused by 
a simple hot-water bottle of earthenware. It 

occurred on the 31st 
of March, 1867, at 
the house of Mr, 
Thomas Man ton, 
Leicester, The bottle, 
of about a quart 
capacity, was used as 
a bed - warmer. In- 
stead of filling it in 
the proper way with 
iiOt water, it was filled 
with c old, and 
corked, and the cork 
tied securely with a 
wax - end, such as 
shoemakers use, and 
so put into the oven 
of the kitchen range ! 
Of course, an explo- 
sion occurred, as 
steam was generated, 
and with the cork 
tied in. The burst- 
ing bottle broke off 
the corner of the 
oven door, and the 
fragments were shot 
into the room with 
the results named, 
the life lost being that of a child. 

As many of the readers of Thk Strand 
are owners of boilers, we may remark that 
the Board of Trade Commissioners never 
accept ignorance as an excuse for neglecting 
to take proper measures to insure that a 
boiler is being worked under safe conditions. 
Their decision is: "That if a person, for the 
purpose of his business, chooses to use steam 
appliances which, if neglected, become a 
source of very grave danger, not only to him- 
self, but to others, he must, in the event of 
an explosion, be taken to have known that it 
was his duty to ascertain that they were kept 
in good condition ; and, further, that if he 
was not able to ascertain this himself, it was 
his duty to have called in a competent person 
from time to time to examine the boiler, to 
ascertain if it was fit to be worked at the 

pressure required*". . 

Original from 


The Derelict " Neptune." 

By Morgan Robertson. 

CROSS the Atlantic Ocean 
from the Gulf of Guinea to 
Cape St. Roque moves a great 
body of water — the Main 
Equatorial Current — which 
can be considered the motive 
power, or mainspring, of the whole Atlantic 
current system, as it obtains its motion 
directly from the ever-acting push of the 
trade-winds. At Cape St. Roque this broad 
current splits into two parts, one turning 
north, the other south. The northern part 
contracts, increases its speed, and, passing 
up the northern coast of South America as 
the Guiana Current, enters through the 
Caribbean Sea into the Gulf of Mexico, 
where it circles around to the northward ; 
then, coloured a deep blue from the fine 
river silt of the Mississippi, and heated from 
its long surface exposure under a tropical 
sun to an average temperature of 8odeg., it 
emerges into the Florida Channel as the 
Gulf Stream. 

From here it travels north-east, following 
the trend of the coast-line, until, off Cape 
Hatteras, it splits into three divisions, one of 
which, the westernmost, keeps on to lose its 
warmth and life in Baffin's Bay. Another 
impinges on the Hebrides, and is no more 
recognisable as a current ; and the third, 
the eastern and largest part of the divided 
stream, makes a wide sweep to the east and 
south, inclosing the Azores and the dead- 
water called the Sargasso Sea, then, as the 
African Current, runs down the coast until, 
just below the Canary Isles, it merges into 
the Lesser Equatorial Current, which, parallel 
to the parent stream, and separated from it 
by a narrow band of back-water, travels west 
and filters through the West Indies, making 
puzzling combinations with the tides, and 
finally bearing so heavily on the young Gulf 
Stream as to give to it the sharp turn to the 
northward through the Florida Channel. 

In the South Atlantic the portion of the 
Main Equatorial Current split off by Cape 
St. Roque and directed south leaves the 
coast at Cape Frio, and at the latitude of the 
River Plate assumes a due easterly direction, 
and crosses the ocean as the Southern Con- 
necting Current. At the Cape of Good 
Hope it meets the cold, north-easterly Cape 
Horn Current, and with it passes up the 
coast of Africa to join the Equatorial Current 
at the starting-point in the Gulf of Guinea, 
the whole constituting a circulatory system of 

ocean rivers, of speed value varying from 
eighteen to ninety miles a day. 

On a bright morning in November, 1894, 
a curious-looking craft floated into the branch 
current which, skirting Cuba, flows westward 
through the Bahama Channel. A man 
standing on the highest of two points, in- 
closing a small bay near Cape Maisi, after a 
critical examination through a telescope, dis- 
appeared from the rocks, and in a few 
moments a light boat, of the model used by 
whalers, emerged from the mouth of the bay, 
containing this man and another. In the 
boat besides was a coil of rope. 

The one who had inspected the craTt from 
the rocks was a tall young fellow, dressed in 
flannel shirt and trousers, the latter held in 
place by a cartridge-belt, such as is used by 
the American cowboy. To this was hung a 
heavy revolver. On his head was a broad- 
brimmed cork helmet, much soiled, and re- 
sembling in shape the Mexican sombrero. 
Beneath this head-gear was a mass of brown 
hair, which showed a non-acquaintance with 
barbers for, perhaps, months, and under this 
hair a sun tanned face, lighted by serious 
grey eyes. The most noticeable feature of 
this face was the extreme arching of the eye- 
brows—a never-failing index of the highest 
form of moral courage. It was a face that 
would please. The face of the other was 
equally pleasing in its way. It was red, 
round, and jolly, with twinkling eyes, the 
whole borrowing a certain dignity from 
closely-cut white hair and moustaches. The 
man was about fifty, and armed like the 

" What do you want of pistols, Boston ? " 
he said to the younger man. "One might 
think this an old-fashioned, piratical cutting- 

"Oh, I don't know, Doc. It's best to 
have them. That hulk may be full of 
Spaniards, and the whole thing nothing but 
a trick to draw us out. But she looks like a 
derelict. I don't see how she got into this 
channel unless she drifted up past Cape 
Maisi from the southward, having come in 
with the Guiana Current. It's all rocks and 
shoals to the eastward." 

The boat, under the impulse of their oars, 
soon passed the fringing reef and came in 
sight of the strange craft, which lay about a 
mile east and half a mile off shore. " You 
see," resumed the younger man, called 
Boston, " there's a bark-water inside Point 

Copyright, 1900, in the United States of America, b< 




Mulas, and if she gets into it she may come 
ashore right here*" 

"Where we can loot her. Nice business 
for a respectable practitioner like me to be 
engaged in ! Doctor Bryee, of Havana, 
consorting with Fenians from Canada, exiled 
German Socialists, Cuban horse thieves who 
would be hung in a week if they went to 
Texas, and a long-legged sailor man who calls 
himself a retired naval officer, but who looks 
like a pirate; and all shouting for Cuba 
Libre I Cuba Libre! It's plunder you want/' 

"But none of us ever manufactured 
dynamite," answered Boston, with a grin. 
" How long did they have vou in Moro 
Castle, Doc?" 

"Eight months/' snapped the doctor, his 

hitherto hidden by distance, began to show, 
There was no sign of life aboard; her spars 
were gone, with the exception of the fore- 
mast, broken at the hounds, and she seemed 
to be of about a thousand tons burden; 
coloured a mixed brown and dingy grey, 
which, as they drew near, was shown as the 
action of iron rust on black and lead-coloured 
paint. Here and there were outlines of 
painted ports. Under the stump of a shattered 
bowsprit projected from between bluff bows 
a weather-worn figure-head, representing the 
god of the sea. Above, on the bows> were 
wooden-stocked anchors stowed inboard, and 
aft on the quarters were iron davits with blocks 
intact — but no falls* In a few of the dead- 
eyes in the channels could be seen frayed 


face clouding, " Eight months in that rat- 
hole, with the loss of my property and practice 
all for devotion to science* I was on the 
brink of the most important and beneficent 
discovery in explosives the world ever dreamt 
of. Yes, sir, 'twould have made me famous 
and stopped all warfare/' 

"The captain told me this morning that 
he'd heard from Marti," said Boston, after an 
interval "Good news, he said; but that's 
all I learned. Maybe it's from Gomez. If 
hell only take hold again we can chase the 
Spanish off the island now. Then we'll put 
some of your stuff under Moro and lift it off 
the earth." 

In a short time details of the craft ahead, 

Digitized by GOOgK 

rope-yarns, rotten with ago, and, with the 
stump of the foremast^ the wooden stocks of 
the anchors, and the teak- wood rail, of a 
bleached grey colour On the round stern* 
as they pulled under it, they spelled, in raised 
letters, necked here and there with dis- 
coloured gilt, the name " Ntpfune % of 
London/' Unkempt and forsaken, she had 
come in from the mysterious sea to tell her 

They climbed the channels, fastened the 
painter, ,\\m\ peered over the rail. There 
was no one in sight, and they sprang down, 
finding themselves on a deck that was soft 
and spongy with time and weather. 

l, Shc"s trr old tub" said Boston, scanning 





the grey fabric Tore and aft \ " one of the 
first iron ships built, I should think. They 
housed the crew under the t 'gallant fore- 
castle- See the doors forward, there? And 
she has a full-decked cabin— that's old style. 
Hatches are all battened down, but I doubt 
if this tarpaulin holds water." He stepped 
on the main hatch, brought his weight on 
the ball of one foot, and turned around, 
The canvas crumbled to threads, showing 
the wood beneath* " Let's go below. If 
there were any Spaniards here they'd have 
shown themselves before this." The cabin 
doors were latched but not locked, and they 
opened them. 

** Hold on," said the doctor ; *' this cabin 
may have been closed for years, and generated 
poisonous gases. Open that upper door, 

Boston ran up the shaky poop-ladder and 
opened the companton-way above, whidi let 
a stream of the fresh morning air and sun- 
shine into the cabin; then, after a moment 
or two t descended and joined the other, who 
entered from die main deck. They were in 
an ordinary ship's cabin, surrounded by 


state-rooms, and with the visual 
swinging lamp and tray ; but 
the table, chairs, and floor were 
covered with fine dust 

" Where the deuce do you 
get so much dust at sea?" 
coughed the dor tor. 

" Nobody knows, Hoc. Let's 
hunt for the manifest and the 
articles. This must have been 
the skipper's room," They 
entered the largest state-room, 
and Boston opened an old- 
fashioned desk. Among the 
discoloured documents it con- 
tained he took out one and 
handed it to the doctor. 
11 Articles," he said; "look at 
it." Soon he took out another. 
" I've got it. Now well find 
what she has in her hold, and 
if it's worth bothering about" 

"Great Scot ! " exclaimed the 
doctor; "this paper is dated 
1844, fifty years ago." Boston 
looked over his shoulder, 

"That's so; she signed her 
crew at Boston, too. Where 
has she been all this time? 
Let's see this one." 

The manifest was short, and 
stated that her cargo was 
3,000 barrels of lime, 8,000 
kids of tallow, and 2,500 carboys of acid, 
1,700 of which were sulphuric, the rest of 
nitric acid. "That cargo won't be much 
good to us, Doc. I'd hoped to find some- 
thing we could use. Let's find the log- 
book, and see what happened to her." 
Boston rummaged what seemed to be the 
first mate's room. " Plenty of duds here," 
he said; "but they're ready to fall to 
pieces* Here's the log*" 

He returned with the book, and, seated at 
the dusty table, they turned the yellow leaves* 
" First departure, Highland Light, March 
10th, 1844," read Boston* "We'll look in 
the remarks column." 

Nothing but the ordinary incidents of a 
voyage were found until they reached the 
date June 1st, when entry was made of the 
ship being "caught aback" and dismasted 
off the Cape of Good Hope in a sudden 
gale. Then followed daily "remarks" of 
the south-easterly drift of the ship, the 
extreme cold (which, with the continuance 
of the bad weather* prevented them from 
saving the wreck with jury-masts), and the 
fact that no sails were sighted. 
Original from 


9 o 


June fith toI<l of her being locked in soft, 
slushy ice, and still being pressed southward 
by the never-ending gale ; June ioth said 
that the ice was hard, and on June 15th was 
the terrible entry : Vi Fire in the hold" 

On June 1 6th was entered this: "Kept 
hatches battened down and stopped all air- 
holes, but the deck is too hot to stand on, 
and getting hotter* Crew insist on lowering 
the boats and pulling them northward over 
the ice to open water in hopes of being 
picked up. Good-bye/' In the position 
columns of this date the latitude was given 
as 62-44 S* and the longitude as 30-50 E, 
There were no more entries. 

"What tragedy does this tell of?" said 
the doctor. "They left this ship in the ice 
fifty years ago. Who can tell if they were 
saved ? » 

"Who, indeed?" said Boston, "The 
mate hadn't much hope, He said * Good- 
bye/ But one thing is certain : we are the 
first to board her since, I take it she stayed 
down there in the ice until she drifted 
around the Pole, and thawed out where 
she could catch the Cape Horn Current, 
which took her up to the Hope. Then she 
came up with the South African Current till 
she got into the Equatorial drift ; then west, 
and up with the (luiana Current into th^ 
Caribbean Sea to the southward of us, and 
this morning the flood tide brought her 

through. It isn't a question of winds ; 
they're too variable. It's currents, though it 
may have taken her years to get here, But 
the surprising part of it is that she hasn't 
been boarded. Lets look in the hold and 
see what the fire has clone," 

When they boarded the hulk the sky, 
with the exception of a filmy haze over- 
hanging the eastern end of the island, was 
clear. Now, as they emerged from the cabin, 
this haze had solidified and was coming— one 
of the black and vicious squalls of the West 
India seas, 

"No man can tell what wind there is in 
them," remarked Boston, as he viewed it. 
41 But it's pretty close to the water, and 
dropping rain. Hold on, there, Doc ? Stay 
aboard* We couldn't pull ashore in the 
teeth of it" The doctor had made a spas- 
modic leap to the rail, "If the anchor 
chains were shackled on, we might drop one 
of the hooks and hold her, but it's two hours 1 
*vork for a full crew + ?? 

" But we're likely to be blofwn away, aren't 
we ? ' asked the doctor. 

"Not fan I don't think it'll last long. 
Well make the boat fast astern and get out 
of the wet." They did so, and entered the 
cabin. Soon the squall, coming with a shock 
like a solid blow, struck the hulk broadside 
to and careened her. Krom the cabin door 
they watched the nearly horizontal rain as 


Original from 




it swished across the deck, and listened to 
the screaming of the wind, which prevented 
all conversation. Silently they waited — one 
hour — two hours — then Boston said : " This 
is getting serious. It's no squall. If it 
wasn't so late in the season I'd call it a 
hurricane. I'm going on deck." 

He climbed the companion-way stairs to 
the poop, and shut the scuttle behind him, 
for the rain was flooding the cabin; then 
looked around. The shore and horizon were 
hidden by a dense wall of grey, which seemed 
not a hundred feet away. From to wind- 
ward this wall was detaching great waves or 
sheets of almost solid water, which bom- 
barded the ship in successive blows, to be 
then lost in the grey whirl to leeward. Over- 
head was the same dismal hue, marked by 
hurrying masses of darker cloud, and below 
was a sea of froth, white and flat; for no 
waves could raise their heads in that wind. 
Drenched to the skin, he tried the wheel and 
found it free in its movements. In front of 
it was a substantial binnacle, and within a 
compass, which, though sluggish, as from a 
well-worn pivot, was practically in good con- 
dition. " Blowing us about nor'-west by 
west," he muttered, as he looked at it, 
"straight up the coast. It's better than 
the beach in this weather, but may land us 
in Havana." He examined the boat. It 
was full of water, and tailing to windward, 
held by its painter. Making sure that this 
was fast, he went down. 

" Doc," he said, as he squeezed the water 
from his limp cork helmet and flattened it 
on the table, " have you any objections to 
being rescued by some craft going into 

" I have — decided objections." 

" So have I ; but this wind is blowing us 
there — sideways. Now, such a blow as this, 
at this time of year, will last three days at 
least, and I've an idea that it'll haul gradually 
to the south toward the end of it. Where'll 
we be then ? Either piled up on one of the 
Bahama cays or interviewed by the Spaniards. 
Now, I've been thinking of a scheme on 
deck. We can't get back to camp for a 
while — that's settled. This iron hull is 
worth something, and if we can take her into 
an American port we can claim salvage. 
Key West is the nearest, but Fernandina 
is the surest. We've got a stump of a fore- 
mast and a rudder and a compass. If we 
can get some kind of sail up forward and 
bring her 'fore the wind, we can steer any 
course within thirty degrees of the wind 

by L^OOgle 

" But I can't steer. And how long will 
this voyage take ? What will we eat ? " 

" Yes, you can steer ; good enough. And, 
of course, it depends on food, and water, 
too. We'd better catch some of this that's 
going to waste." 

In what had been the steward's store-room 
they found a harness-cask with bones and a 
dry dust in the bottom. " It's salt meat, I 
suppose," said the doctor, "reduced to its 
elements." With the handles of their pistols 
they carefully hammered down the rusty 
hoops over the shrunken staves, which were 
well preserved by the brine they had once 
held, and, taking it out on deck, cleaned it 
thoroughly under the scuppers— or drain- 
holes— of the poop, and let it stand under 
the stream of water to swell and sweeten 

" If we find more casks we'll catch some 
more," said Boston ; " but that will last us 
two weeks. Now we'll hunt for her stores. 
I've eaten salt horse twenty years old, but 
I can't vouch for what we may find here." 
They examined all the rooms adjacent to the 
cabin, but found nothing. 

"* Where's the lazarette in this kind of a 
ship ? " asked Boston. " The cabin runs 
right aft to the stern. It must be below us." 
He found that the carpet was not tacked to 
the floor, and, raising the after-end, discovered 
a hatch, or trap-door, which he lifted. Below, 
when their eyes were accustomed to the dark- 
ness, they saw boxes and barrels — all covered 
with the same fine dust which filled the 

" Don't go down there yet, Boston," said 
the doctor. " It may be full of carbonic 
acid gas. She's been afire, you know. Wait." 
He tore a strip from some bedding in one of 
the rooms, and, lighting one end by means 
of a flint and steel which he carried, lowered 
the smouldering rag until it rested on the pile 
below. It did not go out. 

"Safe enough, Boston," he remarked. 
" But you go down ; you're younger." 

Boston smiled and sprang down on the 
pile, from which he passed up a box. 
" Looks like tinned stuff, Doc. Open it, and 
I'll look over here." 

The doctor smashed the box with his foot, 
and found, as the other had thought, that it 
contained cylindrical cans ; but the labels 
were faded with age. Opening one with his 
jack-knife, he tasted the contents. It was a 
mixture of meat and a fluid, called by sailors 
" soup and bully," and as fresh and sweet as 
though canned the day before. t 

" We're all right, Boston," he called down 

I I u I I I '.' I I I 





the hatch* * ( Here's as good a dish as IVo 
tasted for months. Read}' rooked, too/' 

Boston soon appeared. "There's some 
beef or pork barrels over in the wing," he 
said, "and plenty of this canned staff, I 
don't know what good the salt meat is* The 
barrels seem tight, but we won't need to 
broach one for a while. There's a bag of 
coffee gone to dust, and some hard bread 
that isn't fit to eat ; but thls*ll do.*' He 
picked up the open can. + 

" Boston," said the doctor, " if those 
barrels contain meat, well find it cooked — 
boiled in its own brine, like this/' 

"Isn't it strange," said Boston, as he 
tasted the contents of the can, "that this 
stuff should keep so long?" 

" Not at all. It was cooked thoroughly 
by the heat, and then frozen. If your 
barrels hUvervt burst from the expansion of 
the brine under the heat or cold, you II find 
the meat just as good." 

" But rather salty, if Tm a judge oi salt 
horse. Now, where's the sail-locker? We 
want a sail on that foremast It must be 

In the forecastle they found sailors 1 
chests and clothing in all stages of ruin, 
but none of the spare sails that ships 
carry. In the boatswain's locker, in otic 

Digitized by Gi 

corner of the fore- 
castle, however, 
they found some 
blocks in fairly 
good condition, 
which Boston 
noted. Then they 
opened the main 
hatch, and dis- 
covered a mixed 
pile of boxes, some 
showing protruding 
necks of large bot- 
tles, or carboys, 
others nothing but 
the circular open- 
ing* Here and 
there in the tangled 
heap were sections 
of canvas sails— 
rolled and unrolled, 
but all yellow and 
worthless. They 
closed the hatch 
and returned to the 

"They stowed 

their spare canvas 

in the 'tween-decK on top of the cargo," said 

Boston ; " and the carboys ,s 

t( And the carboys burst from the heat and 
ruined the sails," broke in the doctor. " But 
another question is, what became of that 
acid ? " 

"If it's not in the 'tween-deek yet, it must 
be in the hold -leaked through the hatches. ,J 
" I hope it hasn't reached the iron in the 
hull, Boston, my boy* It takes a long time 
for cold acids to act on iron after the first 
oxidation, but in fifty years mixed nitric and 
sulphuric will do lots of work," 

" No fear, Doc ; it had done its work 
when you were in your cradle. Whatll we 
do for canvas? We must get this craft 
before the wind, llowll the carpet do ? ?> 
Boston sprang to the edge, and tried the 
fabric in his fingers, "Illl go," he said ; 
u we'll double it- Fit hunt for a palm and 
needle and some twine." These articles he 
found in the mate's room. "The twine's 
no better than yarn," said he, " hut we'll use 
four parts." 

Together they doubled the carpet diagon- 
ally, and with long stitches joined the edges. 
Then Boston sewed into each corner a 
thimble -an iron ring and they had a 
triangular sail of about twelve feet hoi^t, 
"It hasn*t been exposed to the action of 
Original from 




the air like the ropes in the locker forward," 
said Boston, as he arose and took off the 
palm ; "and perhaps it'll last till she pays off. 
Then we can steer. You get the big pulley- 
blocks from the locker, Doc, and I'll get the 
rope from the boat — it's lucky I thought to 
bring it ; I expected to lift things out of the 
hold with it." 

At the risk of his life Boston obtained the 
coil from the boat, while the doctor brought 
the blocks. Then, together, they rove off a 
tackle. With the handles of their pistols they 
knocked bunk-boards to pieces and saved the 
nails ; then Boston climbed the foremast, as 
a painter climbs a steeple — by nailing 
successive billets of wood above his head for 
steps. Next he hauled up and secured the 
tackle to the forward side of the mast, with 
which they pulled up the upper corner of 
their sail, after lashing the lower corners to 
the windlass and fife-rail. 

It stood the pressure, and the hulk paid 
slowly off and gathered headway. Boston 
took the wheel and steadied her at north- 
west by west — dead before the wind ; while 
the doctor, at his request, brought the open 
can of soup and lubricated the wheel-screw 
with the only substitute for oil at their 
command ; for the screw worked hard with 
the rust of fifty years. 

Their improvised sail, pressed steadily on 
but one side, had held together, but now, 
with the first flap as the gale caught it from 
another direction, appeared a rent ; with the 
next flap the rag went to pieces. 

" Let her go," sang out Boston, gleefully ; 
" we can steer now. Come here, Doc, and 
learn to steer." 

The doctor came ; and when he left that 
wheel, three days later, he had learned. For 
the wind had blown a continuous gale the 
whole of this time, which, with the ugly sea 
raised as the ship left the lee of the land, 
necessitated the presence of both men at the 
helm. Only occasionally was there a lull 
during which one of them could rush below 
and return with a can of the soup. During 
one of these lulls Boston had examined the 
boat, towing half out of water, and con- 
cluding that a short painter was best with a 
waterlogged boat, had reinforced it with a 
few turns of his rope from forward. In the 
three days they had sighted no craft except 
such as their own — helpless, hove-to, or 

Boston had judged rightly in regard to 
the wind. It had hauled slowly to the 
southward, allowing him to make the 
course he wished — through the Bahama 

Digitized by GoOQ I C 

and up the Florida Channel with the wind 
over the stern. During the day he could 
guide himself by landmarks, but at night, 
with a darkened binnacle, he could only 
steer blindly on with the wind on his back. 
The storm centre, at first to the south of 
Cuba, had made a wide circle, concentric 
with the curving course of the ship, and 
when the latter had reached the upper end 
of the Florida Channel, had spurted ahead 
and whirled out to sea across her bows. It 
was then that the undiminished gale, blowing 
nearly west, had caused Boston, in despair, 
to throw the wheel down and bring the ship 
into the trough of the sea — to drift. The 
two wet, exhausted, hollow-eyed men slept 
the sleep that none but sailors and soldiers 
know; and when they wakened, twelve 
hours later, stiff and sore, it was to look out 
on a calm, starlit evening, with an eastern 
moon silvering the surface of the long, 
north-bound rollers, and showing in sharp 
relief a dark horizon, on which there was no 
sign of land or sail. 

They satisfied their hunger ; then Boston, 
with a rusty iron pot from the galley, to which 
he fastened the end of his rope, dipped up 
some of the water from over the side. It 
was warm to the touch, and, aware that they 
were in the Gulf Stream, they crawled under 
the musty bedding in the cabin berths and 
slept through the night. In the morning 
there was no promise of the easterly wind 
that Boston hoped would come to blow them 
to port, and they secured their boat — 
reeving off davit tackles, and with the plug 
out, pulling it up, one end at a time, while 
the water drained out through the hole in 
the bottom. 

" Now, Boston," said the doctor, " here 
we are, as you say, on the outer edge of the 
Gulf Stream, drifting out into the broad 
Atlantic at the rate of four miles an hour. 
We've got to make the best of it until some- 
thing comes along ; so you hunt through 
that store-room and see what else there is to 
eat, and I'll examine the cargo. I want to 
know where that acid went." 

They opened all the hatches, and while 
Boston descended to the lazarette, the doctor, 
with his trousers rolled up, climbed down the 
notched steps in a stanchion. In a short 
time he came up with a yellow substance in 
his hand, which he washed thoroughly with 
fresh water in Boston's improvised draw- 
bucket, and placed in the sun to dry. Then 
he returned to the 'tween-deck. After a while 
Boston, rummaging the lazarette, heard him 
calling through the bulkhead, and joined him, 




" Look here, Boston/' said the doctor ; 
" Fve cleared away the muck over this 
hatch. It's caulked, as you sailormen call 
it Help me get it up. 15 

They dug the compacted oak urn from the 
seams with their knives, anil by iron rings 
in each comer, now eaten with rust to the 
thinness of wire, they lifted the hatch. 
Below was a filthy-looking layer of whitish 
substance, protruding from which were 
charred, half- burned staves. First they 
repeated the experiment with the smoulder- 
ing rag, and finding that it burned* as before, 
they descended. The whitish substance was 
hard enough to bear their weight, and they 
looked around* Overhead, hung to the 
underside of the deck and extending the 
length of the hold, were wooden tanks, 
charred, and in some places burned through* 

" She must have been built for a passenger 
or troop ship/' said Boston, "Those tanks 
would water a regiment," 

11 Boston," answered the doctor, irrele- 
vantly, " will you climb up and bring down 
an oar from the boat? Carry it down — don't 
throw it, my boy/' Boston obliged him, and 
the doctor, picking his way forward, then aft, 
struck each tank with the oar, "Empty — 
nil of them, 1 * he said, 

He dug out with his knife a piece of the 

"'fmitv— all w them/ he sai 


whitish substance under foot, and examined 
it closely in the light of the hatch. 

" Boston," he said, impressively, ^ this ship 
was loaded with lime, tallow, and acids — 
acids above, lime and tallow down here. 
This stuff is neither ; it is lime soap. And, 
moreover, it has not been touched by acids," 
The doctor's ruddy face was ashen. 
"Well?" asked Boston. 
"Lime soap is formed by the causticizing 
action of lime on tallow in the presence of 
w T ater and heat. It is easy to understand 
this fire. One of those tanks leaked and 
dribbled down on the cargo, attacking the 
lime, which was stowed underneath, as all 
these staves we see on top are from tallow- 
kids. The heat, generated by the slacking 
lime, set fire to the barrels in contact, which 
in turn set fire to others, and they burned 
until the air was exhausted, and then went 
out. See, they are but partly consumed. 
There was intense heat in this hold, and 
expansion of the water in all the tanks. Are 
tanks at sea filled to the top ? " 

"Chock-full, and a cap screwed down on 
the upper end of the pipes/' 

" As I thought. The expanding water burst 
every tank in the hold, and the cargo was 
deluged with water, which attacked every 
lime- barrel in the boitom layer, at least. 

Result — the 
bursting of those 
barrels from the 
ebullition of slack- 
ing lime, the melt- 
ing of the tallow 
- which could not 
burn long in the 
closed-up space — 
and the mixing of 
it in the interstices 
of the lime-barrels 
with water and 
lime — a boiling 
hot mess. What 
happens under 
such conditions?" 
"Give it up," 
said Boston, la- 

"Lime soap is 
formed, which 
rises, and the 
water beneath is 
in time all taken 
up by the lime," 

" But what of 
it ? " interrupted 
the other, 

Original from 



"Wait. I see that this hold and the 
'tween-deck are lined with wood. Is that 
customary in iron ships?" 

" Not now. It used to be a notion that 
an iron skin damaged the cargo ; so the first 
iron ships were ceiled with wood." 

" Are there any drains in the 'tween-deck 
to let water out, in case it gets into that deck 
from above — a sea, for instance ? " 

" Yes, always ; three or four scupper-holes 
each side amidships. They lead the water 
into the bilges, where the pumps can reach 

" I found up there," continued the doctor, 
"a large piece of wood, badly charred by 
acid for half its length, charred to a lesser 
degree for the rest. It was oval in cross 
section, and the largest end was charred 

"Scupper plug. I suppose they plugged 
the 'tween-deck scuppers to keep any water 
they might ship out of the bilges and away 
from the lime." 

" Yes, and those plugs remained in place 
for days, if not weeks or months, after the 
carboys burst, as indicated by the greater 
charring of the larger end of the plug. I 
burrowed under the debris^ and found the 
hole which that plug fitted. It was worked 
loose, or knocked out of the hole by some 
internal movement of the broken carboys, 
perhaps. At any rate, it came out, after 
remaining in place long enough for the acids 
to become thoroughly mixed and for the 
hull to cool down. She was in the ice, 
remember. Boston, the mixed acid went 
down that hole, or others like it Where is 
it now?" 

" I suppose," said Boston, thoughtfully, 
"that it soaked up into the hold, through 
the skin." 

" Exactly. The skin is caulked with 
oakum, is it not ? " Boston nodded. 

"That oakum would contract with the 
charring action, as did the oakum in the 
hatch, and every drop of that acid — 10,000 
gallons, as I have figured — has filtered up 
into the hold, with the exception of what 
remained between the frames under the skin. 
Have you ever studied chemistry ? " 

" Slightly." 

" Then you can follow me. \Y r hen tallow 
is saponified there is formed, from the 
palmitin, stearin, and olein contained, with 
the causticizing agent — in this case, lime — 
a soap. But there are two ends to every 
equation, and at the bottom of this immense 
soap vat, held in solution by the water, which 
would afterwards be taken up by the surplus 

Digitized by Google 

lime, was the other end of this equation; 
and as the yield from tallow of this other 
product is about 30 per cent, and as we start 
with 8,000 501b. kids — 400,0001b. — all of 
which has disappeared, we can be sure that, 
sticking to the skin and sides of the barrels 
down here, is — or was once — i20,ooolb., or 
sixty tons, of the other end of the equation — 
glycerine ! " 

" Do you mean, Doc," asked Boston, with 
a startled look, " that " 

" I mean," said the doctor, emphatically, 
"that the first thing the acids — mixed in the 
'tween-deck to the right proportions, mind 
you — would attack, on oozing through the 
skin, would be this glycerine ; and the 
certain product of this union under intense 
cold — this hull was frozen in the ice, remem- 
ber — would be nitro - glycerine ; and as 
the yield of the explosive mixture is 
220 per cent, of the glycerine, we can be 
morally sure that in the bottom of this hold, 
held firmly in a hard matrix of sulphate or 
nitrate of calcium --which would be formed 
next when the acids met the hydrates and 
carbonates of lime — is over 130 tons of 
nitroglycerine, all the more explosive from 
not being washed of free acids. Come up 
on deck. I'll show you something else." 

Limp and nerveless, Boston followed the 
doctor. This question was beyond his sea- 

The doctor brought the yellow substance 
— now well dried. " I found plenty of this 
in the 'tween-deck," he said ; " and I should 
judge they used it to pack between the 
carboy boxes. It was once cotton-batting. 
It is now, since I have washed it, a very 
good sample of gun-cotton. Get me a 
hammer — crowbar — something hard." 

Boston brought a marline-spike from the 
locker, and the doctor, tearing off a small 
piece of the substance and placing it on the 
iron barrel of a gipsy winch, gave it a hard 
blow with the marline - spike, which was 
nearly torn from his hand by the explosion 
that followed. 

"We have in the 'tween-deck," said the 
doctor, as he turned, "about twice as many 
pounds of this stuff as they used to pack the 
carboys with ; and, like the nitroglycerine, it 
is the more easily exploded from the impuri- 
ties and free acids. I washed this for safe 
handling. Boston, we are adrift on a float- 
ing bomb that would pulverize the Rock of 

" But, doctor," asked Boston, as he leaned 
against the rail for support, " wouldn't there 
be evolution of heat from the action of the 




acids on the lime — enough to explode the 
nitroglycerine just formed ? " 

u The best proof that it did not explode 
is the fact that this hull still floats. The 
action was too slow, and it was very cold 
down there. But I can't yet account for the 
acids left in the bilges. What have they 
been doing all these fifty years?'* 

Boston found a sounding-rod in the locker, 
which he scraped bright with his knife j then, 
unlaying a strand of the rope for a line, 
sounded the pump- well The rod came up 
dry, but with a slight discoloration on the 
lower end, which Boston showed to the 

"The adds have expended themselves on 
the iron frames and plates. How thick are 
they ? " 

"Plates, about five-eighths of an inch; 
frames, like railroad iron," 

" This hull is a shell ! We won't get much 
salvage. (Jet up some kind of distress signal, 
Boston." Somehow the doctor was now the 
master spirit. 

A flag was nailed to the mast, union down, 
to be b'own to pieces with the first breeze 5 
the 1 uno, her, and another, until the 
flag locker was exhausted. Then 
they hung out, piece after piece, all 
they could spare of the rotten bed- 
ding, until that too was exhausted. 
Then they found, in a locker of 
their boat, a flag of Free Cuba, 
which they decided not to waste, 
but to hang out only when a sail 

But no sail appeared, and the 
craft, buffeted by gales and seas, 
drifted eastward, while the days 
became weeks, and the weeks l>e- 
came months. Twice she entered 
the Sargasso Sea— the graveyard of 
derelicts — to be blown out by 
friendly gales and resume her 
travels. Occasional rains replenished 
the stock of fresh water, but the 
food they found at first, with the 
exception of some cans of fruit, was 
all that came to light. The salt 
meat was leathery, and crumbled 
to a salty dust on exposure to the 
air, After a while their stomachs 
revoked at the diet of cold soup, 
and they ate only when hunger 
compelled them. 

At first they had stood wuteh- 
and watch, but the lonely horror 
of the long night vigils in 
the constant apprehension of in- 

stant death had affected them alike, and 
they gave it up, sleeping and watching 
together. They had taken care of their 
boat and provisioned it, ready to lower and 
pull into the track of any craft that might 
approach. But it was four months from 
the beginning of this strange voyage when 
the two men, gaunt and hungry — with 
ruined digestions and shattered nerves — saw, 
with joy which may be imagined, the first 
land and the first sail that gladdened their 
eyes after the gale in the Florida Channel 

A fierce gale from the south-west had been 
driving them, broadside on, in the trough of 
the sea, for the whole of the preceding day 
and night ; and the land they now saw 
appeared to them a dark, ragged line of 
blue, early in the morning, Boston could 
only surmise that it was the coast of Portugal 
or Spain. The sail which lay between them 
and the land, about three miles to leeward, 
proved to be the try-sail of a white craft, 
hove- to, with bows nearly toward them. 

Boston climbed the foremast with their 
only flag and secured it ; then, from the high 
poop-deck, they watched the other craft, 

by Google 

nubioK ci.iMufu J Me; j-o^kma-,j wn h their ^nlv h,a<p am> 
£f$CU*$P IT." 

Original from 



plunging and wallowing in the immense 
Atlantic combers, often raising her forefoot 
into plain view, again descending with a dive 
that hid the whole forward half of the craft 
in a white cloud of spume. 

" If she was a steamer I'd call her a 
cruiser," said Boston ; "one of Uncle Sam's 
white ones, with a storm-sail on her military 
mainmast. She has a ram bow, and— yes, 
sponsons and guns. That's what she is, with 
her funnels and bridge carried away." 

" Isn't she right in our track, Boston ? " 
asked the doctor, excitedly. " Hadn't she 
better get out of our way ? " 

" She's got steam up — a full head : see the 
escape-j^t. Shj isn't helpless. If she don't 
launch a we'll take to ours and board 

The distance lessened rapidly — the cruiser 
plunging up and down in the same spot, the 
derelict heaving to leeward in great swinging 
leaps, as the successive seas caught her, each 
one leaving her half a length further on. 
Soon they could make out the figures of 

"Take us off," screamed the doctor, 
waving his arms, "and get out of our 
way ! " 

" We'll clear her," said Boston ; "see, she's 
started her engine." 

As they drifted down on the weather side 
of the cruiser they shouted repeatedly words 
of supplication and warning. They were 
answered by a solid shot from a secondary 
gun, which flew over their heads. At the 
same time the ensign of Spain was run up 
to the masthead. 

" They're Spanish, Boston. They're 
firing on us. Into that boat with you ! If 
a shot hits our cargo we won't know what 
struck us." 

They sprang into the boat, which luckily 
hung on the lee side, and cleared the falls- 
fastened and coiled in the bow and stern. 
Often during their long voyage they had 
rehearsed the launching of the boat in a sea- 
way—an operation requiring quick and con- 
certed action. 

" Ready, Doc ? " sang out Boston. " One, 
two, three — let go ! " The falls overhauled 
with a whir, and the falling boat, striking an 
uprising sea with a smack, sank with it. When 
it raised they unhooked the tackle - blocks, 
and pushed off with the oars just as a second 
shot hummed over their heads. 

"Pull, Boston; pull hard — straight to 
windward ! " cned the doctor. 

The tight whaleboat shipped no water, 
and though they were pulling in the teeth 

Vol. x*.-13 

of a furious gale, the hulk was drifting 
away from them, and in a short time they 
were separated from their late home by a 
full quarter-mile of angry sea. The cruiser 
had forged ahead in plain view, and, as they 
looked, took in the try-sail. 

" She's going to wear," said Boston. " See, 
she's paying off." 

" I don't know what * wearing ' means, 
Boston," panted the doctor, " but I know 
the Spanish nature. She's going to ram that 
hundred and thirty tons of nitro. Don't stop. 
Pull away. Hold on, there ; hold on, you 
fools ! " he shouted. " That's a torpedo ; 
keep away from her ! " 

Forgetting his own injunction to pull away, 
the doctor stood up, waving his oar frantically, 
and Boston assisted. But if their shouts 
and gestures were understood aboard the 
cruiser they were ignored. She slowly 
turned in a wide curve and headed straight 
for the Neptune, which had drifted to lee- 
ward of her. 

What was in the minds of the officers on 
that cruiser's deck will never be known. 
Cruisers of all nations hold roving commis- 
sions in regard to derelicts, and it is fitting 
and proper for one of them to gently prod a 
" vagrant of the sea " with the steel prow and 
send her below to trouble no more. But it 
may be that the sight of the Cuban flag, 
floating defiantly in the gale, had something 
to do with the speed at which the cruiser 
approached. When but half a length 
separated the two crafts a heavy sea lifted 
the bow of the cruiser high in air ; then it 
sank, and the sharp steel ram came down 
like a butcher's cleaver on the side of the 

A great semi-circular wall of red shut out 
the grey of the sea and sky to leeward, and 
for an instant the horrified men in the boat 
saw —as people see by a lightning flash -dark 
lines radiating from the centre of this red 
wall, and near this centre, poised on end in 
mid-air, with deck and sponsons still intact, a 
bowless, bottomless remnant of the cruiser. 
Then the spectacle went out in the dark- 
ness of unconsciousness ; for a report, as of 
concentrated thunder, struck them down. 
A great wave left the hollow vortex in the 
sea, which threw the boat on end, and 
with the inward rush of surrounding water 
arose a mighty grey cone, which subsided to 
a hollow, while another wave followed the 
first. Again and again this grey pillar rose 
and fell, each subsidence marked by the 
sending forth of a wave. And long before 
these concentric |Yft2ft f j had lost themselves 


9 s 



in tho battle with the storm-driven combers 
from the ocean, the halt-filled boat, with her 
unconscious pa s* enters, had d rifled over the 
spot where lay the shattered remnant, which, 
with the splintered fragments of wood and 
iron strewn on the surface and bottom of the 
sea ibr a mile around, and the lessening 
cloud of dust in the air, was all that was left 
of the derelict Neptune and one of the 
finest cruisers in the Spanish navy, 

A few days later two exhausted, half- 
starved men pulled a whaleboat up to the 
steps of the wharf at Cadiz, where they told 




some ties and sold their boat. Six months 
later these two men, sitting at a camp-fire of 
the Cuban army, read from a discoloured 
newspaper, brought ashore with the last 
supplies, the following: — 

By en hie In the Herald. 
Cadiz, MatcK 13, 1895.— Anxieiy for the safety 
of ifce Ret mi Regtnte has grown rapidly to-day, and 
this evening it is feared, generally, that she went 
down with her four hundred and twenty souk in the 
sEorrn which swept the southern coast on Sunday 
night and Monday morning, Desjratches from 
Gibraltar say that pieces of a I mat and several sema- 
phore flags belonging to the cruiser came ashore at 
Ceu La and Tarifa this afternoon* 

Original from 

Pruning the Great Hedge of Meikieour. 

By Allan Blair. 

IHttstraiiom from Phot&gtapks by the Author \ 

ME RICA boasts of its big 
trees* but " puir auld Scot- 
land " is the locale of the 
Beech Hedge, the highest 
hedge known, one of the 
arboreal wonders of the world. 
The hedge is situated about four railes from 
the popular summer resort of Blairgowrie, 
and near by 
Meikieour, one 
of the prettiest 
little villages in 
Scotland. Bor- 
d e r i n g the 
grounds of 
House, the pro- 
perty of the 
Marquis of 
presently ten- 
anted by the 
Duke of Bed- 
ford, the hedge 
extends along 
the side of the 
Perth Road for 
nearly half a 
mile, and attains 
a height of 
100ft. It is 
believed to have 
been planted in 
1745, and it is 
stated that men 
working at the 
wall, or dyke, in 
front of it hur- 
ried off to take 
their part in the 
last struggle of 

Prince Charlie at Culloden, in 1746. The 
hedge is situated in a must lovely locality, 
and approaching it from Blairgowrie the 
visitor traverses a roadway bordered by 
magnificent trees, a fit preparation for the 
sylvan triumph waiting at his journey's end. 

Our first photograph shows the hedge in 
its midsummer glory. Standing at the top of 
the Craw Law, as the hill beside the hedge 
is called, one sees before him a beautiful 

Digitized by vLt^ 

nil-; 1 1 1- 1 11 .]-. in lis f ,j,i jkv. 

wall of greenery, solid in texture, and varied 
in the delicate colourings of the beech. The 
first feeling is one of astonishment at the 
size of the hedge, and this is succeeded by 
an admiration for the proprietors of the 
estate who, through all these years, by judi- 
cious and systematic pruning, have retained 
the characteristics of a hedge in the massive 

specimen now 
before us* 

The hedge is 
pruned to a 
height of 80ft., 
and, as can 
easily be im- 
agined, this is a 
work of no mean 
magnitude, and 
nut to be under- 
taken lightly* It 
is ten years 
since it was last 
done, and the 
writer was fortu- 
nate in securing 
several photo- 
graphs at the 
pruning opera- 
tions in April 
of this year. The 
pruning, which 
lasts about three 
weeks, is per- 
formed by the 
men on the 
estate, under 
the superinten- 
dence of Mr. D. 
Matheson, the 
land steward. 

'Three men are 
usually employed on the work — two at the 
actual of pruning, while the third 
remains on the road to see that no damage 
is caused by the falling branches ; but on 
the occasion of our visit only two were 
engaged on the work. Naturally, the 
foresters' clothes do not receive the tendcrest 
treatment, and they are each presented 
with a pair of new trousers on the comple- 
tion of the £jrt^jnal from 




thh umieih:kuwtei 4 

Arriving at the hedge in tlic early morning 
we were* in time to get a snap-shot of the 
foresters' advent on the scene of their 
labours. The photograph at the 
end of this article shows clearly the 
height to which the hedge is 
pruned from the special ladder, 
seer^ in the distance ; above that 
the pruning is carried on by the 
foresters climbing the main trunks 
and cutting the branches with prun- 
ing-hooks. The first part of the 
trimming is the cutting of the 
undergrowth as high as the men 
can reach. The photograph above 
showing the men at this stage of 
the work also gives a good re pre sen 
tation of the old, moss-grown dyke, 
built by the heroes of Culloden 
before they left for that closing 
scene of " the '45 "- we dare hardly 
call it the rel>ellion of '45, 

The next photograph shows the 
men at work on the ladder specially 
constructed for this operation. The 
ladder is made after the manner of 
the portable " steps ;J used in ware 
houses, but, of course, on a much 
larger scale. It is a little over 30ft. 
high, and as a ladder of this size 
is rather unwieldy, it is mounted 
on four wheels, by means of which 
it is possible for the men lo shift it 
as they advance with their labours. 

Digitized by Google 

The roadway 
slopes down to- 
wards the hedge ; 
this gives the lad- 
der an inclination 
to the hedge, so 
that it is not easily 
overturned ; still, 
during a heavy 
wind the men find 
it impossible to 
continue at their 
work, owing to the 
oscillation of the 
ladder and the 
danger involved, 

After the men 

have pruned to 

the full extent of 

the ladder there 

is still about 50ft. 

to be pruned. To 

accomplish this 

the men climb the 

trees forming the 

hedge, and from this dizzy height lop off the 

extending branches- The next photograph 

depicts them at this hazardous task. High 




up, silhouetted against the sky, is " Dougal " 
wielding his pruning-hook ; while lower down, 
in the neighbouring tree, is his companion, 
poised on an outstanding branch, contribut- 
ing his quota to the wprk of preserving l he 
symmetry of thus monument of Nature's handi- 
work. A small saw at the end of a pole is 
used to lop off i he branches that ran not 
otherwise be reached* This is found prefer- 
able to the averruncator, as the worker can 
use it with one hand, while with the other 
he steadies himself on his elevated perch ; 
both hands are necessary to work the 
averruncator, and, as might be supposed, both 
hands cannot be spared for this purpose. 

In climbing, the men are not roped to the 
hedge in anyway; and, dangerous though the 
work may appear to the casual observer, the 
men take it as part of the "clay's darg," and 
no accident has ever happened, Each man 
carries m his pocket a piece of string, so that 
should he chance to drop his pruning hook, he 
lowers the string, his companion on the road 
ties it to the pruning-hook, and the workman, 
pulling In the string, recovers his tool with- 
out the necessity of leaving his position. 
Both men shown in the photograph were 
employed on this same job ten years ago, 
a fact that speaks well for employer and 


by Google 

Original from 

From Behind the Speaker's Chair. 



ONE of the characteristics of 
the House of Commons that 
endear it to the student of 
manners is its absolute freedom 
from snobbishness, It is no respecter of 
persons, Trojan and Tyrean are one to it 
What it likes above all things is a man of 
capacity, of simple manner, with the gift 
of conveying information and argument in 
lucid speech. Whether he be born heir to 
a peerage or whether he passed some years 
of early life in a coal mine affects its judg- 
ment only in the direction of securing more 
indulgent attention to one of the latter class. 
It is human and English to the extent 
that, at the bottom of its heart, it loves a 
lord. But if strained imagination may go the 
length of conjuring a stupid man 
hearing a lordly title, his attempts 
at engaging its favourable atten- 
tion would not meet with greater 
success than if his father had 
been a tailor. The case of Lord 
Randolph Churchill illustrates the 
situation. Undoubtedly the fact 
that his father was a duke gave 
him a favourable opening. Had 
he failed to seize and make the 
most of it, an armful of dukes 
would not have helped him. 
Had he come of a line of trades- 
men he would, perhaps a little 
more slowly but inevitably, have 
reached the position he 
eventually won in the House of 

One of the most successful 
speeches of the present Session 
wa s d e I i ve red by a \V e 1 sh n km w be r 
who, according to his own modest 
record, set forth in the pages of 
u I)od," served as a schoolmaster 
in Wales, and, coming to London, 
became assistant master in a 
Hoard School, finally advancing to a tutorship 
at Oxford. Yet Mr William Jones, unex- 
pectedly interposing in debate on the question 
of the establishment of a Catholic University 
in Dublin, instantly commanded the atten- 
tion of the House, which, filling as he went 
on, sat in the attitude of entranced attention 
familiar in moments when it was addressed 
by John Bright or Mr. Gladstone. 
The secret of this rare triumph is that 



source of 

A wiic.sii 


rare uiumpn is u 


Mr, Jones very rarely interposes in debate * 
that he knows what he is talking about; 
that his lips are touched with the fire of that 
eloquence possible only to the Celt ; and 
that his manner is modest almost to the 
verge of timidity. There are men who 
would barter coronets or great wealth for the 
reception spontaneously accorded to the 
unassuming Welsh schoolmaster. In the 
House of Commons neither rank nor money 
could purchase it. 

Many people are familiar with 
a description of the personal 
appearance of Mr. Gladstone in 
his earliest days in the House of 
Commons without knowing the 
its origin. " Mr. Gladstone's 
appearance and manners," it was 
written in the Session of 1838, 
"are much in his favour He is 
a fine-looking man- He is about 
the usual height and of good 
figure- His countenance is mild 
and pleasant } and has a highly 
intellectual expression. His eyes 
are clear and quick, his eyebrows 
are dark and rather prominent. 
There is not a dandy in the 
House but envies what Truefitt 
would call his fine head of jet- 
black hair. It is always carefully 
parted from the crown downwards 
to his brow, where it is tastefully 
shaded. His features are small 
and regular, and his complexion 
must be a very unworthy witness 
if he does not possess an abund- 
ant stock of health." 

The quotation is from a 
work entitled "Random 
T" / Recollections of the Lords 
and Commons." 
lished in 1838 
a fortunate arrangement, since 
it permitted the author that freer scope of 
description and criticism that makes his work 
precious to succeeding generations. I have 
the good fortune to possess a copy of the first 
edition in its old-fashioned, paper-boarded 
covers. Looking up the familiar quotation, 
the only passage of the book that survives in 
current literature, it is amusing to find this 
shrewd observer's estimate of the possibilities 
of the young member for Newark. 


/ONES, IM.I 1 . 

It was pub- 



14 He is," wrote Mr, James Grant— there 
is no secret now about the authorship of the 
work— "a man of very considerable talent, 
but has nothing approaching to genius. His 
abilities are much more the result of an 
excellent education and of mature study than 
of any prodigality on the part of Nature in 
the distribution of her mental gifts, I have 
no idea that he will ever acquire the reputa- 
tion of a great statesman, His views are 
not sufficiently profound or enlarged for 
that. . . , He is plausible even when most 
in error. When it suits himself or his party 
he can apply himself with the strictest close- 
ness to the real point at issue ; when to 
evade that point is deemed most politic no 
man can wander from it more widely." 

That last passage is excellent. Written 
more than sixty years ago, it exactly describes 
Mr, Gladstone's Parliamentary practice up to 
the date of his final appearance at the table, 
Mr. Grant, I believe, lived long 
enough to see his early judgment 


of Mr. Gladstone's capabilities 
falsified. Prophesying before he 
knew, he had, however, the satisfaction of 
erring in distinguished company. George 
Selwyn heard Pitt's first speech in the House 
of Commons, and, writing to Lord Carlisle, 
under date 13th June, 1781, he says, " I 
heard yesterday young Pitt ; I came down 
into the House to judge for myself. He is 
a young man who will undoubtedly make his 
way in the world by his abilities. Rut to 
give him credit for being very extraordinary 
upon what I heard yesterday would be 
absurd. If the oration had been pronounced 
equally well by a young man whose name 
was not of the same renown, and if the 
matter and expression had come without that 
prejudice, all which could have been said 
was that he was a sensible and promising 
young man." 

" The Earl of Rosebery has an 
lord aversion which nothing but some 
kOSKUERV. powerful consideration can over- 
come to take any active part 
in great national questions. He acquits 
himself in his addresses to the House in 
a very respectable manner. He speaks 
with great emphasis, as if every sentence 
he uttered were the result of deep con- 
viction, The earnestness of his manner 
always insures him an attentive hearing, 
and adds much to the effect of what he 
says- His speeches usually indicate an 
acquaintance with their subject His 
elocution would be considered good were 
it not that its effect is impaired by his 

Digitized by V^OOQ IC 

very peculiar voice — so peculiar that I know 
not how to describe it. All I can say 
respecting it is that a person who has once 
heard it will never forget it. 

" He always speaks with sufficient loud- 
ness to be audible in all parts of the House* 
He seldom falters, and still more rarely 
hesitates for want of suitable phraseology. 
His language is in good taste, without being 
polished. His addresses never extend to any 
length, but they are comprehensive. There is 
generally as much matter-of-fact or argument 
in them as a more wordy speaker would 
swell out to double the extent. 

"His action requires but little notice. He 
is a quiet speaker* His body stands nearly 
as still as if he were transfixed. He now and 
then moves both hands at once just as if he 
were waving them to some friend he re- 
cognised at a distance. 

"The noble Earl is slightly below the 
middle height, with a moderate inclination to 
corpulency. His complexion partakes more 
of sallowness than of any other quality I 
could name* His hair has something of a 
greyish colour. In the features of his face 
there is nothing peculiar, He looks a good- 
natured man, and I believe he is so in reality. 
He is in his fifty-fifth year." 

If he were alive now he would be in his 
1 17th. As the reader, misled by the open- 
ing sentence, would begin to suspect, this 
pen-and-ink sketch does not refer to the Earl 
of Rosebery who fills so large and luminous a 
space In the closing years of the Victorian 
era. It was his grandfather, the fourth Earl, 
who sat in the first Parliament of the Queen, 
and in succeeding ones up to the year 186S. 
The sketch, penned in 1838, is taken from 
the same lively volume that enshrines the 
more familiar portrait of young William 
Ewart Gladstone, 

Lord Ashbourne is not only a 
charming after-dinner speaker 
himself, but was at least on one 

'" ''' " ' evening the cause of a iour de 

LORD A&tt»@|lH9JfJF3p| pfpTif^UNCEY DEPEW. 




force in after-dinner- speaking by another. 
On the occasion alluded to Lord Ashbourne 
was, as he often is, a host in himself. The 
dinner was given at the United Service Club, 
to welcome Sir Henry Drummond Wolff, on 
one of those not infrequent visits to London 
with which he tempers his exile as Her 
Majesty's Minister at Madrid. The Marquis 
of Londonderry sat on Lord Ash- 
bourne's right, and next to him 
Mr. Chauncey Depew. 

It was a small and purely social 
dinner amongst old friends, and 
nothing was remoter from expecta- 
tion than speech-making. When 
the servants had left 
the room, to every- 
one's surprise the 
host rose to propose 
a toast to the health 
of the Marquis of 
Londonderry and 
Her Majestys Min- 
ister at Madrid. 

I never saw a man 
so annoyed as was 
Lord Londonderry. 
He had come out for 
a pleasant evening, 
and here was thrust 
upon him the burden 
of after-dinner 
speech - making. If 
coals had suddenly 

gone down half a crown in price his coun- 
tenance could not have more nearly resembled 
their colour. Drummond Wolff, on the 
contrary, was quite elate. A charming after- 
dinner speaker, he welcomed this unexpected 
opportunity of displaying his talent. 

Lord Ashbourne went on for some time, 
expatiating on the high qualities of Lord 
Londonderry, and extolling the diplomatic 
talent of Drummond Wolff. " With your 
permission," he added, in an abruptly con- 
cluding sentence, " I will call upon Mr. 
Chauncey Depew to respond to the toast." 

The surprise was complete, not least for 
Chauncey Depew. But in a moment he was 
on his legs, and made response which for wit 
and appropriateness could not have been 
exceeded by an ordinary man with the 
advantage of a week's preparation. 

Mr. Duncombe, with the courage 



and the authority of a still young 
member, has drafted a somewhat 
elaborate scheme for the further 
reform of procedure in the House of Com- 
mons. He has sat for Egremont long enough 

Digitized by Cj* C 

to have been present when the House was 
brought to the verge of a curious crisis. The 
Speaker being indisposed, the Chairman of 
Ways and Means took the chair. One day 
it was whispered that the Chairman had 
been attacked by the prevailing scourge. If 
he were laid up, the Speaker meanwhile 
confined to his room, chaos would come. 
Parliament, in its wisdom, 
never contemplated such 
concatenation of circum- 
stance. No provision was 
made to meet it, and the 
House must needs stand 
adjourned till one or other 
of the right honourable 
gentlemen recovered health 
and strength. 

Mr. Duncombe proposes 
that the Standing Order 
shall be amended in the 
direction of giving the 
Speaker power to nominate 
a member who, in the 
absence of the Chair- 
man of Ways and 
Means, shall be 
authorized to per- 
form his duties and 
exercise his full 
powers. Such action 
is to be taken by the 
Speaker upon receiv- 
ing a written request 
from the Leader of the House. 

Whilst the adaption of this new rule would 
avert what might possibly be a grave incon- 
venience to public business consequent on 
the simultaneous illness of the Speaker and 
his Deputy, Mr. Duncombe probably has in 
view another and more familiar hitch. At 
the commencement of every Session the 
Speaker nominates three members to serve 
upon occasion as Chairman of Ways and 
Means. The appointment does not carry 
with it authority to submit the closure. The 
consequence is that, when the Chairman 
of Ways and Means is temporarily absent, 
whether through illness or after an excep- 
tionally long spell in the chair, the work of 
Committee must be carried on without the 
inestimable advantage of the once-contemned 

Such state of things frequently befalls in 
the effort to wind up a Session. The Chair- 
man of Committees having sat through a 
dozen or sixteen hours at a stretch must take 
a rest. If the Prorogation is to be accom- 
plished at a desired date, the Committee 







of Supply must be kept pegging away at the 
Votes, There are temporary Chairmen at 
hand, but they may not put the question 
involving the closure- Obstruction is con- 
sequently for the time master of the situation. 
Another reform suggested by Mr. 
Duncombe affects the established 
order of business through the 
week. At present, (lovemment 
business has absolute precedence 
on Mondays and Thursdays, whilst Friday is 
set apart for Committee of Supply* Tuesday 
nights, at least up to Easter, are the property 
of private members, who use the occasion to 
bring forward notices of motion on miscel- 
laneous topics, Wednesdays also belong to 
the private member for the purpose of 
furthering Bills, 

Mr. Duncombe has a really ingenious and, 
from some points of view, an attractive plan 
of rearranging business. He would have Mon- 
day, Tuesday, and Wednesday allotted for 
Government business. Instead of meeting 
on Wednesday at noon and sitting till six he 
would have the arrangement transferred to 
Friday. Wednesday being transformed into 
an ordinary night sitting should 
take the place of Friday, inas- 
much as it would be devoted 
to Supply. 

This is an innocent-looking 
plan, but the private member is 
not so simple as in individual 
cases he looks. Greedy Govern- 
ments have long poached on his 
domain with morning sittings 
and the like, leading up to the 
flat burglary of appropriating all 
his time after Whitsuntide. The 
adoption of Mr. Duncombe's 
plan would make a final end of 
the private member arid his 
efforts at legislation. It would 
mean the practical adjournment 
of the House after Wednesday 
night's sitting. Members not 
personally interested in the 
motion set down for Thursday 
night, or the Bill having first 
place on the Orders for Friday, 
would compensate themselves 
for close attendance on the first 
three days of the week by making holiday 
from Thursday to Monday afternoon. 

Whether the country would be materially 
the worse for this hamstringing of amateur 
legislation is a delicate question that need 
not be here discussed. I believe Mr + Balfour 
is disposed to view the scheme with favour. 

Vol x*.-!4. 


by K: 


It is quite certain that the private member, 
representing the fly, will fiot walk into the 
parlour the door of which is so invitingly 
opened by the ingenuous inheritor of a 
familiar Parliamentary name- 

Nothing has been heard in the 
present Parliament of a move- 
ment which was a source of 
some embarrassment to Mr, 
Gully's predecessor in the Chair. In accord- 
ance with immemorial usages members of 
the House of Commons invited to dine with 
the Speaker in the Session are required to 
wear Court dress. To some members this is, 
whether from inadequate means or con- 
scientious objections, a bar to acceptance of 
the prized privilege. In the Parliament 
chosen at the General Election of 1880 there 
was a considerable accession of what are 
known as working-men members, These 
were invited in due turn, the Speaker judi- 
ciously handicapping personal preference by 
invoking alphabetical order. 

In view of the essential condition of Court 
dress the Labour members were obliged to 
absent themselves from the hospitable board. 
A petition was got up, signed 
by many more than those per- 
sonally concerned, begging the 
Speaker to permit variations 
from the rule, But the Speaker 
of the House of Commons is 
the custodian of great traditions* 
He might as reasonably be 
expected to appear in the Chair 
without wig and gown as to 
countenance at his official 
table guests who wore not the 
wedding garment. 

Mr. Peel's 
free and kindly in- 
easy. st i nets and 
intent on one occasion 
got over the difficulty. 
In supplement to his 
Wednesday evening 
banquets, when mem- 
bers cluster round him 
in Court dress, he gave 
a non-official dinner at 
which— as in quite other 
circumstances at Lord Onslow's charming 
dinners in Richmond Terrace — it was 
optional for guests to present themselves 
either in morning or evening dress. There 
were thirty-six present, twelve representing in 
the House of Commons Labour constituen- 
cies. Each of these was sandwiched between 

Original fronn 




two other members of the 
House, and a most delight- 
ful evening was spenL 

Among the Welsh mem- 
bers was the gentleman 
known in the Principality 
as " Mabon." Someone 
suggested that the honour- 
able member could sing. 
M Mabon " blushed assent 
The Speaker's pleasure 
being taken, " Mabon " 
rose to his feet and trolled 
forth a lightsome Welsh 

In the dining-room at 
Speaker's House three 
centuries of Speakers look 
down from the walls on 
the more or less festive 
dinner-scene. What they 
thought of this particular 
occasion is, for obvious 
reasons, not recorded. 

Members of the present House 

taking of Commons observing the not 
the oath, infrequent occurrence of new 
members, unchallenged, electing 
to make declaration instead of taking the 
oath, find it difficult to realize the storm that 
raged round the question in the days of Mr, 
Brad laugh. That devout men like the late 
Lord Randolph Churchill, the happily still 
living Sir Henry Wolff, and Sir John Gorst 
should have Fought Mr. Brad laugh's claim 
tooth and nail is not a matter of marvel, 
more especially as Mr, Gladstone was com- 
mitted to its support. What is more 
significant of dee ply -stirred feeling at the 
time is the fact that scores of Liberals, 
just returned at the General Election in the 
train of Mr, Gladstone, revolted, dealing the 
Government a blow on the very threshold of 
its career, from which it never recovered 

The question, in a different form, was 
earlier fought, with equal bitterness, in 
respect of the admission to Parliament of 
Jews and Roman Catholics. Now it is 
quite a common thing to see a newly-elected 
member standing at the Table wearing his hat 
as he takes the oath, in sign of his Jewish 

nftA I wonder how* many members of 

T4NTS ANp th 5 P rcsent House know that 
r \thdi \r^ w ^h\r\ the last half century there 
* were two forms of onth, one for 
the Protestant, one for the Roman Catholic? 
Mr. Gladstone remembered the scene in the 
House of Commons on a November day in 

by Google 

1837, when the newly- 
elected Parliament was 
sworn in. Then, as now, 
the performance was ■ 
hastened by carrying it on 
in batches. As many 
members as could manage 
clustering together to touch 
the Bible repeated the oath 
in chorus, 

I gathered from Mr. 
Gladstone's story that in 
those days members re- 
peated the oath aloud. 
When opposition to Roman 
Catholics enjoying full civil 
rights was overcome — and 
Pitt, it will be remembered, 
was, after strenuous effort, 
beaten on the point by that 
eminent statesman George 
IIL — Protestants insisted 
upon retention of the pri- 
vilege of denouncing Roman 
Catholics in the oath of allegiance taken at 
the Table of the House of Commons, It 
was, Mr. Gladstone said* a most uncom- 
promising performance, Roman Catholics 
being described as idolaters destined to ever 
lasting perdition. 

What engraved the circumstance on the 
tablets of his memory, legible after an 
interval of sixty years, was that at a table 
adjoining that at which the young member 
for Newark and a dozen other stalwart Pro- 
testants were vigorously cursing their Catholic 
colleagues stood Daniel O'ConnelK quietly 
taking the form of oath prepared for mem- 
bers of his faith. 

" He could not fail," said Mr Gladstone, 
** to have heard the chorus of our charitable 

There are few things in a small 
way more irritating to members 
of the House of Commons than 
^ l " the censorship their questions 

undergo at the hands of the clerks at the 
Table. It is a wholesome restriction that the 
manuscript of all questions addressed to 
Ministers shall be handed in at the Table, 
They are read, usually by the second clerk, 
and sent on to the printer, sometimes with 
serious emendations. It is a common occur- 
rence for members, especially gentlemen 
from Ireland, to make public complaint on 
submitting their question that its text has 
been so manipulated as to have lost its point. 
That is to say s in inquiring about delay in 
delivery of letters at Clonakilty or Ballyma- 

Original from 



hooly, the Clerk at the Table has struck out 
a broad hint that the Minister to whom the 
question is addressed was guiltily cognizant 
of the secret of the sudden death of a con- 
nexion on his wife's side 

So deeply rooted is the feeling of resent- 
ment at tampering with literary work to 
whose composition a full hour may have 
been devoted, that this Session a member so 
little given to revolt as Mr, Kimber came in 
contact with the authority of the Chair by 
insistence on the reinstatement of the original 
text of his question. In this case there was 
no wanton and groundless insinuation of foul 
play suffered by a mother-in-law. The Clerk 
at the Table thought some passages were 
irrelevant and struck them out, Mr. Kimber 
complained that the first intimation of the 
matter he received was when he opened his 
copy of the Orders and found his prize prose- 
poem of a question reduced to baldest limits. 
He attempted to graft upon the stem of his 
remarks the suppressed cutting, so that the 
House might judge between him and the 
Clerk at the Table. The Speaker was down 
on him like a thunderbolt, frustrating a 
familiar device. 

In this particular case the Speaker ad- 
mitted that he had not been made aware 
of drastic dealing with the manuscript. But, 
according to his constant ruling, he peremp- 
torily declined to permit discussion of the 
procedure at the Table or repetition of the 
words struck out of the question, Mr. 
Kimber was compelled to accept the change- 
ling which bore his name in the list of 
questions, though, as he 
dolefully said, he was not 
able to recognise it, 

Mr* Gully is equal 
to all occasions, 
and met this un- 
expected outburst 
with his accustomed firmness 
and urbanity. 
As a rule he is 
warned before- 
hand of anything 
in the wind by 
the simple pro- 
cess of a con- 
ference which 
precedes each 
silting of the 
House. On 
every day the 
House meets 
the clerks at 
the Table have 





an audience of the Speaker, They draw his 
attention to any point of order likely to be 
raised in the course of the forthcoming sit- 
ting. The situation is discussed, precedents 
are looked up, and when the whirlwind rises 
the Speaker is prepared to ride upon it 

The Earl of Onslow holds excep- 

douulk tional position in Parliament by 

honours, reason of the fact that two of his 

ancestors became Speakers of 

the House of Commons. That is a matter 

of public record. There is another, less 

familiar, fact which establishes the unique 

position of the Under Secretary for the India 

Office. Twice has he moved the Address in 

the House of Lords, 

The first occasion was the 5th of February, 
1880, the principal topics of the Queens 
Speech having reference to the capture and 
deposition of Cetewayo and the Afghan 
invasion after the murder of Sir Louis 
Cavngnari. The second time was on the 
19th of August, 1886, Parliament having met 
immediately after the General Election that 
smashed Home Rule and sent the Liberal 
Party into the wilderness. On that occasion 
the noble Earl was able to approve the 
decision announced in the Queen's Speech, 
that in view of the date Her Majesty 
abstained from recommending for the con- 
sideration of Parliament any measures save 
those essential to the conduct of the public 
service during the remainder of the year. 

Invitation to move or second the Address 
in either House is a compliment highly 
prized* How it came about that it should be 
thus lavished upon an in- 
dividual is not explained- 
Lord Onslow modestly sur- 
mises that Lord Salisbury 
forgot the honour 
had already been 
bestowed upon 
him. It is equally 
reasonable to 
suppose that the 
Premier cher- 
ished such 
pleased recollec- 
tions of the glow- 
ing eloquence of 
the speech on the 
5th February, 
1880, that, like a 
person who shall 
here be nameless, 
he in August, 
1 836, "asked for 

by Google 

Original from 

Melisande ; or, The Long-H T aired Princess. 

A Story for Children. 
By £. Nesbit. 

I HEN the Princess Melisande 
was born, her mother, the 
Queen, wished to have a 
christening party, but the King 
put his foot down and said he 
would not have it. 

41 Tve seen too much trouble come of 
christening parties," said he. " However 
carefully you keep your visiting-book, some 
fairy or other is sure to get left out, and you 
know what that leads to. Why, even in my 
own family, the most shocking things have 
occurred. The Fairy Malevola was not 
asked to my great -gran dm other's christening 
— and you know all about the spindle and 
the hundred years' sleep," 

" Perhaps you're right/ 1 said the Queen, 
" My own cousin by marriage forgot 
some stuffy old fairy or 
other when she was send- 
ing out the cards for her 
daughter's christening, and 
the old wretch turned up 
at the last moment, and 
the girl drops toads out 
of her mouth to 

"Just so, said 
King ; " we'll 
have no non- 
sense about it. 
I'll be her god- 
father and you 
shall be her god- 
mother, and we 
won't ask a single 
fairy, then none 
of them can be 

" Unless they 
all are," said the 

And that was 
exaetly what hap- 
pened. When the 
King and the 
Queen and the 
baby got back 
from the christen- 
ing the parlour- 
maid met them 
at the door, and 
said : — 

11 Please, your 



Majesty, several ladies have called. I told 
them you were not at home, but they all 
said they'd wait." 

11 Are they in the parlour ? w asked the 

" IVe shown them into the Throne Room, 
your Majesty," said the parlourmaid. "You 
see* there are several of them." 

There were about seven hundred. The 
great Throne Room was crammed with 
fairies, of all ages and of all degrees of beauty 
and ugliness— good fairies and bad fairies, 
flower fairies and moon fairies, fairies like 
spiders and fairies like butterflies — and as 
the Queen opened the door and began to say 
how sorry she was to have kept them waiting, 
they all cried, with one voice, " Why didn't 
you ask me to your christening party ? " 

" I haven't had a party," 
f— -^ s^d the Queen, and she 

\f* turned to the King and 

whispered, " I told you so." 
This was her only consolation. 
"You've had a chris- 
tening," said the fairies, 
Pm very sorry," said 
the poor Queen, 
but Malevola 
pushed forward 
and said, u Hold 
your tongue," most 

Malevola is the 
oldest, as well as 
the most wicked, 
of tlie fairies* She 
is deservedly un- 
popular, and has 
been left out of 
more christening 
parlies than all the 
rest of the fairies 
put together. 

" Don't begin to 
make excuses/* 
she said, shaking 
her finger at the 
Queen. "That 
only makes your 
conduct worse- 
You know well 
enough what hap- 
txcusEs; she saip,". pens if a fairy is 

Original from 




left out of a christening party. We are 
all going to give our christening presents 
now. As the fairy of highest social position, 
I shall begin. The Princess shall be 

The Queen nearly fainted as Malevola 
drew back, and another fairy, in a smart 
bonnet with snakes in it, stepped forward 
with a rustle of bats' wings. But the King 
stepped forward too. 

" No you don't ! " said he. " I wonder at 
you, ladies, 1 do indeed. How can you be 
so unfairylike? Have none of you been to 
school — have none of you studied the history 
of your own race ? Surely you don't need a 
poor, ignorant King like me to tell you that 
this is no go f " 

" How dare you ? " cried the fairy in the 
bonnet, and the snakes in it quivered as she 
tossed her head. " It is my turn, and I say 
the Princess shall be " 

The King put his hand over her mouth. 

" Look here," he said ; " I won't have it. 
Listen to reason — or you'll be sorry after- 
wards. A fairy who breaks the traditions 
of fairy history goes out — you know she does 
— like the flame of a candle. And all 
tradition shows that only one bad fairy is 
ever forgotten at a christening party and the 
good ones are always invited ; so either this 
is not a christening party, or else you were 
all invited except one, and, by her own 
showing, that was Malevola. It nearly 
always is. Do I make myself clear ? " 

Several of the better-class fairies who had 
been led away by Malevola's influence mur- 
mured that there was something in what His 
Majesty said. 

44 Try it, if you don't believe me," said the 
King ; " give your nasty gifts to my innocent 
child — but as sure as you do, out you go, 
like a candle-flame. Now, then, will you 
risk it?" 

No one answered, and presently several 
fairies came up to the Queen and said what 
a pleasant party it had been, but they 
really must be going. This example decided 
the rest. One by one all the fairies said 
good-bye and thanked the Queen for the 
delightful afternoon they had spent with 

" It's been quite too lovely," said the lady 
with the bonnet ; " do ask us again soon, dear 
Queen. I shall be so longing to see you 
again, and the dear baby," and off she went, 
with the snake-trimming quivering more than 

When the very last fairy was gone the 
Queen ran to look at the baby — she tore off 

Digitized by GOOQK 

its Honiton lace cap and burst into tears* 
For all the baby's downy golden hair came 
off" with the cap, and the Princess Melisande 
was as bald as an egg. 

14 Don't cry, my love," said the King. " I 
have a wish lying by, which I've never had 
occasion to use. My fairy godmother gave it 
me for a wedding present, but since then I've 
had nothing to wish for ! " 

" Thank you, dear," said the Queen, 
smiling through her tears. 

44 I'll keep the wish till baby grows up," 
the King went on. " And then I'll give it to 
her, and if she likes to wish for hair she 

44 Oh, won't you wish for it now ? " said the 
Queen, dropping mixed tears and kisses on 
the baby's round head. 

44 No, dearest. She may want something 
else more when she grows up. And besides, 
her hair may grow by itself." 

But it never did. Princess Melisande 
grew up as beautiful as the sun and as good 
as gold, but never a hair grew on that little 
head of hers. The Queen sewed her a little 
cap of green silk, and the Princess's pink 
and white face looked out of this like a 
flower peeping out of its bud. And every 
day as she grew older she grew dearer, and 
as she grew dearer she grew better, and as she 
grew more good she grew more beautiful. 

Now, when she was grown up the Queen 
said to the King : — 

" My love, our dear daughter is old enough 
to know what she wants. Let her have the 

So the King wrote to his fairy godmother 
and sent the letter by a butterfly. He asked 
if he might hand on to his daughter the wish' 
the fairy had given him for a wedding present. 

44 1 have never had occasion to use it," 
said he, 44 though it has always made me 
happy to remember that I had such a thing 
in the house. The wish is as good as new, 
and my daughter is now of an age to appreci- 
ate so valuable a present." 

To which the fairy replied by return of 
butterfly : — 

"Dear King, — Pray do whatever you like 
with my poor little present. I had quite 
forgotten it, but I am pleased to think that 
you have treasured my humble keepsake all 
these years. 

" Your affectionate godmother, 

"Fortuna F." 

So the King unlocked his gold safe with 

the seven diamond-handled keys that hung 

at his girdle, and took out the wish and gave 

it to his daughter. . , 

Original from 




And Melisande said : " Father, I will wish 
that all your subjects should be quite happy." 

But they were that already, because the 
King and Queen were so good. So the wish 
did not go off. 

So then she said : " Then I wish them all 
to be good." 

But they were that already, because they 
were happy. So again the wish hung fire. 

Then the Queen said : " Dearest, for my 
sake wish what I tell you." 

" Why, of course I will," said Melisande. 
The Queen whispered in her ear, and Meli- 
sande nodded. Then she said, aloud : — 

" I wish I had golden hair a yard long, 
and that it would grow an inch every day, 
and grow twice as fast every time it was cut, 
and " 

" Stop," cried the King. And the wish 
went off, and the next moment the Princess 
stood smiling at him through a shower of 
golden hair. 

" Oh, how lovely," said the Queen. 
" What a pity you interrupted her, dear ; 
she hadn't finished." 

" What was the end ? " asked the King. 

" Oh," said Melisande, " I was only going 
to say, ' and twice as thick.' " 

"It's a very good thing you didn't," said 
her father. " You've done about enough." 
For he had a mathematical mind, and could 
do the sums about the grains of wheat 
on the chess-board, and the nails in the 
horse's shoes, in his Royal head without any 
trouble at all. 

"Why, what's the matter?" asked the 

"You'll know soon enough," said the 
King. " Come, let's be happy while we 
may. Give me a kiss, little Melisande, and 
then go to nurse and ask her to teach you 
how to comb your hair." 

" I know," said Melisande ; " I've often 
combed mother's." 

" Your mother has beautiful hair," said the 
King ; " but I fancy you will find your own 
less easy to manage." 

And, indeed, it was so. The Princess's 
hair began by being a yard long, and it grew 
an inch every night. If you know anything 
at all about the simplest sums you will see 
that in about five weeks her hair was about 
two yards long. This is a very inconvenient 
length. It trails on the floor and sweeps up 
all the dust, and though in palaces, of course, 
it is all gold-dust, still it is not nice to have 
it in your hair. And the Princess's hair was 
growing an inch every night. When it was 
three yards long the Princess could not bear 

by Google 

it any longer — it was so heavy and so hot- 
so she borrowed nurse's cutting-out scissors 
and cut it all off, and then for a few hours 
she was comfortable. But the hair went on 
growing, and now it grew twice as fast as 
before; so that in thirty-six days it was as 
long as ever. The poor Princess cried with 
tiredness, and when she couldn't bear it any 
more she cut it off, and was comfortable for 
a very little time. For the hair now grew 
four times as fast as at first, and in eighteen 
days it was as long as before, and she had to 
have it cut. Then it grew eight inches a 
day, and the next time it was cut it grew 
sixteen inches a day, and then thirty-two 
inches and sixty-four inches and a hundred 
and twenty-eight inches a day, and so on, 
growing twice as fast after each cutting, till 
the Princess would go to bed at night with her 
hair clipped short, and wake up in the morn- 
ing with yards and yards and yards of golden 
hair flowing all about the room, so that she 
could not move without pulling her own hair, 
and nurse had to come in and cut her hair off 
before she could get out of bed. 

" I wish I was bald again," sighed poor 
Melisande, looking at the little green cap she 
used to wear, and she cried herself to sleep 
o' nights between the growing billows of the 
golden hair. But she never let her mother 
see her cry, because it was the Queen's fault, 
and Melisande did not want to seem to 
reproach her. 

When first the Princess's hair grew her 
mother sent locks of it to all her Royal 
relations, who had them set in rings and 
brooches. Later, the Queen was able to 
send enough for bracelets and girdles. But 
presently so much hair was cut off that they 
had to burn it. Then when autumn came 
all the crops failed ; it seemed as though 
all the gold of harvest had gone into the 
Princess's hair. And there was a famine. 
Then Melisande said : — 

" It seems a pity to waste all my hair ; it 
grows so very fast. Couldn't we stuff things 
with it, or something, and sell them, to feed 
the people ? " 

So the King called a council of merchants, 
and they sent out samples of the Princess's 
hair, and soon orders came pouring in ; and 
the Princess's hair became the staple export of 
that country. They stuffed pillows with it, 
and they stuffed beds with it. They 
made ropes of it for sailors to use, and 
curtains for hanging in Kings' palaces. They 
made haircloth of it, for hermits and people 
who wished to be uncomfy. But it was so 
soft and silky that it only made them happy 




and warm, which they did not wish to be. 
So the hermits gave up wearing it, and, 
instead, mothers bought it for their little 
babies, and all well-born infants wore little 
shirts of Princess-haircloth* 

And still the hair grew and grew. And 
the people were fed and the famine came to 
an end. 

Then the King said : " It was all very well 
while the famine lasted — but now I shall 
write to my fairy godmother and see if 
something cannot be done," 

So he wrote and sent the letter by a sky- 
lark, and by return of bird came this 
answer : — 

"Why not advertise for a competent 
Prince ? Offer the usual reward," 

So the Ring sent out his heralds all over 
the world to proclaim that any respectable 
Prince with proper references should marry 
the Princess Melisande if he could stop her 
hair growing. 

Then from far and near came trains of 
Princes anxious to try their luck, and they 


rather glad that none of the nasty things in 
bottles and boxes made the least difference 
to her hair. 

The Princess had to sleep in the great 
Throne Room now, because no other room 
was big enough to hold her and her hair. When 
she woke in the morning the long high room 
would be quite full of her golden hair, packed 
tight and thick like wool in a barn. And 
every night when she had had the hair cut 
close to her head she would sit in her green 
silk gown by the window and cry, and kiss the 
little green cap she used to wear, and wish 
herself bald again. 

It was as she sat crying there on Mid- 
summer Eve that she first saw Prince 

He had come to the palace that evening, 
but he would not appear in her presence with 
the dust of travel on him, and she had 
retired with her hair borne by twenty pages 
before he had bathed and changed his 
garments and entered the reception-room. 
Now he was walking in the garden in the 

moonlight, and 
p-^ he looked up 
and she looked 
down, and for the 
first time Mel is- 
ande, looking on 
a Prince, wished 
that he might 
have the power 
to stop her hair 
from growing. 
As for the Prince, 
he wished many 
things, and the 
first was granted 
him. For he 
said : — 

li You are 

" And you are 

4 'There are 
many roses round 
your window," 
said he to her, 
"and none down 

She threw him 
one of three 

brought all sorts of nasty things with them 
in bottles and round wooden boxes. The 
Princess tried all the remedies, but she did 
not like any of them, and she did not like 
any of the Princes, so in her heart she was 

Digitized by G< 

white roses she 
held in her hand. Then he said : — 

" White rose trees are strong, May I 
climh up to you ? " 

41 Surely." said the Princess. 
So he climbed up to the window. 
Original from 


I 12 


"Now," said he, "if I can do what your 
father asks, will you marry me ? " 

" My father has promised that I shall/ 7 
said Metisande, playing with the white roses 
in her hand, 

" Dear l'rincess," said he, " your father's 
promise is nothing to me, I want yours* 
Will you give it to me ? " 

" Yes/ 1 said she, and gave him the second 

" I want your hand," 

" Yes*" she said. 

"And your heart with it," 

" Yes/' said the Princess, and she gave 
him the third rose. 

M And a kiss to seal 
the promise." 

"Yes, "said she. 

"And a kiss to go 
with the hand." 

" Yes," she said. 

" And a kiss to bring 
the heart." 

" Yes," said the Prin- 
cess, and she gave him 
the three kisses. 

** Now, 1 ' said he t when 
he had given them back 
to her, "to-night do not 
go to bed, Remain by 
your window, and I will 
stay down here in the 
garden and watch. And 
when your hair has 
grown to the filling of 
your room call to me, 
and then do as I tell 

" I will," said the 

So at dewy sunrise 
the Prince, lying on the 
turf beside the sun-dial, 
heard her voice : — 

" Florizel ! Florizel ! My hair has grown 
so long that it is pushing me out of the 

"Get out on to the window-sill," said he, 
"and twist your hair three times round the 
great iron hook that is there." 

And she did. 

Then the Prince climbed up the rose bush 
with his naked sword in his teeth, and he 
took the Princess's hair in his hand about a 
yard from her head and said : — 


The Princess jumped, and screamed, for 
there she was hanging from the hook by a 
yard and a half of her bright hair ; the Prince 

by Google 

tightened his grasp of the hair and drew his 
sword across it. 

Then he let her down gently by her hair 
till her feet were on the grass, and jumped 
down after her 

They stayed talking in the garden till all 
the shadows had crept under their proper 
trees and the sun-dial said it was breakfast 

Then they went in to breakfast, and all 
the Court crowded round to wonder and 
admire, For the Princess's hair had not 

"How did you do it ?** asked the King, 
shaking Florizel warmly 
by the hand, 

"The simplest thing 
in the world," said Flori- 
zel, modestly. " You 
have always cut the 
hair off the Princess. / 
just cut the Princess off 
the hair." 

"Humph!" said the 
King T who had a 
logical mind. And 
during breakfast 
he more than once 
looked anxiously 
at his daughter; 
When they got up 
from breakfast the 
Princess rose with 
the rest, but she 
rose and rose and 
rose, till it seemed 
as though there 
would never be 
an end of it- The 
Princess was 9ft- 

" 1 feared as 
much," saLd the 
King, sadly. " I 
wonder what will be the rate of progres- 
sion. You see," he said to poor Florucl t 
"when we cat the hair off it grows— when 
we cut the Princess olT she grows. I wish 
you had happened to think of that ! " 

The Princess went on growing. By dinner- 
time she was so large that she had to have 
her dinner brought out into the garden 
because she was too large to get indoors. 
But she was too unhappy to be able to eat 
anything. And she cried so much that there 
was quite a pool in the garden, and several 
pages were nearly drowned. So she remem- 
bered her " Alice in Wonderland!" and 
stopped crying at once. But she did not 

Original from 




stop growing. She grew bigger and bigger 
and bigger, till she had to go outside the 
palace gardens and sit on the common, 
and even that was too small to hold her 
comfortably, for every hour she grew twice 
as much as she had done the hour 
before. And nobody knew what to do, nor 
where the Princess was to sleep. For- 
tunately, her clothes had grown with her, 
or she would have been very cold indeed, 
and now she sat 
on the common 
in her green 
gown, embroi- 
dered with gold, 
looking like a 
great hill covered 
with gorse in 

You cannot 
possibly imagine 
how large the 
Princess was 
growing, and her 
mother stood 
wringing her 
hands on the 
castle tower, and 
the Prince 
Florizel looked 
on broken- 
hearted to see 
his Princess 
snatched from 
his arms and 
turned into a 
lady as big as a 

The King did 
not weep or look 
on. He sat down 
at once and 
wrote to his fairy 
god-mother, ask- 
ing her advice. 
He sent a weasel 
with the letter, 
and by return of 
weasel he got his own letter back again, 
marked " Gone away. Left no address." 

It was now, when the kingdom was 
plunged into gloom, that a neighbouring King 
took it into his head to send an invading 
army against the island where Melisande 
lived. They came in ships and landed in 
great numbers, and Melisande looking down 
from her height saw alien soldiers marching 
on the sacred soil of her country. 

" I don't mind so much now," said she, 

Vol. xx.— 15 

"if I can really be of some use this 

And she picked up the army of the enemy 
in handfuls and double-handfuls, and put 
them back into their ships, and gave a little 
flip to each transport ship with her finger and 
thumb, which sent the ships off so fast that 
they never stopped till they reached their 
own country, and when they arrived there 
the whole army to a man said it would rather 

be court-martial- 
led a hundred 
times over than 
go near the place 

Melisande, sit- 
ting on the 
highest hill on 
the island, felt 
the land tremb- 
ling and shiver- 
ing under her 
giant feet. 

•* I do believe 
I'm getting too 
heavy," she said, 
and jumped off 
the island into 
the sea, which 
was just up to 
her ankles. Just 
then a great fleet 
of warships and 
gunboats and 
torpedo boats 
came in sight, 
on their way to 
attack the island. 
uld easily have sunk them 
with one kick, but she did 
t like to do this because 
might have drowned the 
lors, and besides, it might 
ve swamped the island. 
So she simply stooped and 
picked the island as you would 
pick a mushroom — for, of course, all 
islands are supported by a stalk under- 
neath — and carried it away to another 
part of the world. So that when the war- 
ships got to where the island was marked on 
the map they found nothing but sea, and a 
very rough sea it was, because the Princess 
had churned it all up with her ankles as she 
walked away through it with the island. 

When Melisande reached a suitable place, 
very sunny and warm, and with no sharks in 




the water, she set down the island ; and the 
people made it fast with anchors, and then 
everyone went to bed, thanking the kind fate 
w f hich had sent them so great a Princess to 
help them in their need, and calling her the 
saviour of her country and the bulwark of 
the nation. 

But it is poor work being the nation's 
bulwark and your country's saviour when 
you are miles high, and have no one to talk 
to, and when all you want is to be your 
humble right size again and to marry your 
sweetheart. And when it was dark the 
Princess came close to the island, and looked 
down, from far up, at her palace and her 
tower and cried, and cried, and cried. It 
does not matter how much you cry into the 
sea, it hardly makes any difference, however 
large you may be. Then when everything 
was quite dark the Princess looked up at the 

" I wonder how soon I shall be big 
enough to knock my head against them," 
said she. 

And as she stood star-gazing she heard a 
whisper right in her ear. A very little whisper, 
but quite plain. 

" Cut off your hair ! " it said. 

Now, everything the Princess was wearing 
had grown big along with her, so that now 
there dangled from her golden girdle a pair 
of scissors as big as the Malay Peninsula, 
together with a pin-cushion the size of the 
Isle of Wight, and a yard measure that 
would have gone round Australia. 

And when she heard the little, little voice, 
she knew it, small as it was, for the dear 
voice of Prince Florizel, and she whipped 
out the scissors from their gold case and 
snip, snip, snipped all her hair off, and it 
fell into the sea. The coral insects got hold 
of it at once and set to work on it, and now 
they have made it into the biggest coral reef 
in the world ; but that has nothing to do 
with the story. 

Then the voice said, "Get close to the 
island," and the Princess did, but she could 
not get very close because she was so large, 
and she looked up again at the stars and 
they seemed to be much farther off. 

Then the voice said, " Be ready to swim," 
and she felt something climb out of her ear 
and clamber down her arm. The stars got 
farther and farther away, and next moment 
the Princess found herself swimming in the 
sea, and Prince Florizel swimming beside 

" I crept on to your hand when you were 
carrying the island," he explained, when their 

Digitized by Google 

feet touched the sand and they walked in 
through the shallow water, " and I got into 
your ear with an ear-trumpet. You never 
noticed me because you were so great 

"Oh, my dear Prince," cried Melisande, 
falling into his arms, "you have saved me. 
I am my proper size again." 

So they went home and told the King and 
Queen. Both were very, very happy, but the 
King rubbed his chin with his hand, and 
said : — 

" You've certainly had some fun for your 
money, young man, but don't you see that 
we're just where we were before ? Why, the 
child's hair is growing already." 

And indeed it was. 

Then once more the King sent a letter 
to his godmother. He sent it by a 
flying-fish, and by return of fish came the 
answer : — 

"Just back from my holidays. Sorry for 
your troubles. Why not try scales ? " 

And on this message the whole Court 
pondered for weeks. 

But the Prince caused a pair of gold 
scales to be made, and hung them up in the 
palace gardens under a big oak tree. And 
one morning he said to the Princess : — 

" My darling Melisande, I must really 
speak seriously to you. We are getting on 
in life. I am nearly twenty : it is time that 
we thought of being settled. Will you trust 
me entirely and get into one of those gold 
scales ? " 

So he took her down into the garden, and 
helped her into the scale, and she curled up 
in it in her green and gold gown, like a little 
grass mound with buttercups on it. 

"And what is going into the other scale?" 
asked Melisande. 

"Your hair," said Florizel. "You see, 
when your hair is cut off you it grows, and 
when you are cut off your hair you grow — 
oh, my heart's delight, I can never forget 
how you grew, never ! But if, when your 
hair is no more than you, and you are no 
more than your hair, I snip the scissors 
between you and it, then neither you nor 
your hair can possibly decide which ought to 
go on growing. 

"Suppose both did," said the poor Princess, 

"Impossible," said the Prince, with a 
shudder; "there are limits even to Malevola's 
malevolence. And, besides, Fortuna said 
'Scales.' Will you try it ? " 

"I will do whatever you wish," said the 
poor Princess, "but let me kiss my father 




and mother once, and Nurse, and you, too, 
my dear, in case I grow large again and can 
kiss nobody any more." 

So they came one by one and kissed the 

Then the nurse cut off the Princess's hair, 
and at once it began to grow at a frightful 

The King and Queen and nurse busily 
packed it, as it grew, into the other scale, 
and gradually the scale went down a little. 
The Prince stood waiting between the scales 

ment," said the King, embracing him, while 
the Queen and the nurse ran to help the 
Princess out of the gold scale. 

The scale full of golden hair bumped down 
on to the ground as the Princess stepped out 
of the other one, and stood there before 
those who loved her, laughing and crying 
with happiness, because she remained her 
proper size, and her hair was not growing 
any more. 

She kissed her Prince a hundred times, 
and the very next day they were married. 


with his drawn sword, and just before the 

two were equal he struck. But during the 

time his sword took to flash through the air 
the Princess's hair grew a yard or two, so 

that at the instant when he struck the 
balance was true. 

"You are a young man of sound judg- 

Everyone remarked on the beauty of the 
bride, and it was noticed that her hair was 
quite short — only 5 ft. 5^ in. long — just 
down to her pretty ankles. Because the 
scales had been 10ft. 10^ in. apart, and the 
Prince having a straight eye had cut the 
golden hair exactly in the middle ! 

by Google 

Original from 


[ We shall he gfad to rtctivt Contributions t& this section, and I& pay for such as are atrtfted.] 

— tremendous crash. This clever snap-shot was sent 

us by Mr. Wilfred R. Tiltoii, Prairie Depot, Ohio, 
anil shows the slaiue actually in midair. The 
ropes are also plainly discernible, 

Mr, E. Wayer Smith, of 1 1 07 , Chestnut Street, 
Philadelphia, Pa., sends an interesting photograph 
depicting a curious phase in the life of children of the 
lower classes. Ele describes the picture in the follow- 
ing words : "Men appointed by the city go around 
every day in summer lime, turning on the water at 

The accompanying photo- 
graph illustrates the manner in 
which the natives of Upper 
Egypt transport their bersine, 
or clover* They do not run to 
the expense of a cart, hut load 
the clover on to the hack of a 
donkey. This method, no doubt, 
saves space, but judging from 
the size of the 'oad we cannot 
help pitying the donkey. We 
are indebted to Mr, 11. of. E* 
Batchelor, of Ear Is wood Com* 
man, Surrey, for this interesting 
photo., which was taken by him 
whilst at Luxor, 


The building shown in the next 
photograph was erected by the 
United SLates Government Inter- 
national Exposition, 
held at the Trans- 
Mississippi and at 
Omaha, N c 1> - 
raska. Upon the 
dome was an im- 
mense statue of 
Liberty, standing 
30ft. high and weigh- 
ing several tons, and 
when the building 
was p id led down in 
February last this 
was almost the first 
portion to be at- 
tacked. Ropes were 
placed in position, 
and two hundred 
men hauled might 
and main until it 
gradually heeled 
over and Ml with a 

the different plugs* 
thereby flushing all 
the smaller streets 
and incidentally 
giving the little 
gamins a chance to 
bathe. That they 
lake advantage of 
this opportunity is 
quite clearly shown 
in my picture. More- 
over, as the same 
man goes over the 
same | tort ion of the 
cily day after day, 
the children soon 
get to know him, 
and l>cgin to jxir- 
tially undress when 
they see him in the 
distance. 11 

* Copyright, jqqo, by George Ncwncs* Limited, 

r^rtnou' Original from 




certainly remarkable both for its beauty and its weird ness. The 
fan Last ic shapes, nil seemingly masses of solid ice, are only 
bushes and vines covered 
by frozen spray blown 
upon 1 hem by a strong 
wind from a lake close by. 


Mr. E. E. Jeune, of 
IiV 11 mouth, in sending 
this curious instance of 
mnllI emancipation, says ; 
14 When the convex side 

of a resectable garden snail is towards you, he turns to the 
right, as in Ihe right-hand figure above ; some do not do so, 
however, and anyone who ha* nothing to do for a month or two 
may occupy their rime in finding one of the latter sort/' 

Mr* Santa Clans, the hardware window 
display here shown, was constructed by 
Mr* G. M. Dopeee, of Algona t Iowa, 
The body of the grotesque figure consists 
of a coal-scuttle, to 
which the arms of 
galvanized iron are 
a 1 ached. The legs 
are constructed from 
stove - pi pes, and the 
head from saucepans, 
with frayed rope for 
the hair and beard, 
surmounted by a tin 
howl (aw a hat. His 
hunting knives art: 
lepresented by scis- 
sors, his water-but Lie 
hy a teapot, and his 
trumpet by a rolled 
strip of tin. Altogether 
this miscellaneous 
collection of kitchen 
utensils, elc. t forms B 
most interesting and 
unique model of QJ< 
Father Christmas. 

The gentleman whose straw hat forms the most conspicuous 
part of his whole self was pacing on horseback beneath the 
window of a certain house not a hundred miles from Torquay* 
and this novel portrait of him is an amusing instance of the 
freaks that may be obtained with a kodak— and some ingenuity, 
We are indebted to Mr. K. 11 Jeune, of the Manor House, 
Lyn mouth, Barn staple, for this curiosity. 


Mr. Howard R, 
Glutibeck sends this 
interesting photo, 
from Bay Shore, Long 
Island, N.W It is 






Everyone will remember the stirring speech which 
Lord Salisbury delivered at the demonstration of the 
Primrose League on May lolh. Among other things 
he strongly impressed his hearers with the fact thai il 
was necessary for every grown-up Englishman 10 
learn how to handle a rifle and hit straight, We 
have here livo illustrations showing Mr. P, J. Cane, 
of Cosham, Wilts, hard at work perfecting himself 
in the art so strongly recommended by the Prime 

Minister. But tbe skill of the photographer is the 
most remarks I ile, as he has succeeded in showing 
ihe bottles and jars at the very instant when the shot 
has struck them, It will lie noticed that in the one 
breaking the bottles there is a curious circle of finely 
shalteied glass, caused by the bullet cutting its way 
through the bottles. The other photograph shows two 
en r l hen ware jars whilst l)eing shattered by a bullet* 

Miss Agnes Irwin, of Lynehow, Carlisle, sends a 
refreshing curiosity. In a letter which accompanies 
the photograph Miss Irwin says ; lt I look this snap- 
shot on the River Esk, at Broom holm* Langholm, 
WB., at the break-up of the last frost. I happened 
to notice a solid disc of ice, about 15ft. in diameter, 
revolving continuously in a deep pool known as Glen 
Firra ; it presented so unusual and beautiful a 
spectacle that I immediately took a picture oi it for 
The Strand* J1 


This splendid specimen of our British bulldog is 
the property of Mr, Geo. H. tlallam, of " Thorny- 
crofi/' 39 , Alexandra Road r Fins bury Park, N. f who 
has kindly sent us the photograph. Like most of the 
members of this particular breed t he docs not look very 
amiable, but when placed before the camera "Old 
Peter" has disclosed hitherto unknown advantages 
over his brethren. Turn this page upside-down, and 
you will observe that the marks on his head present 
the features of a face quite tht: opposite in expression 

tohisown. Original from 





The peculiar object shown 
in the next photo, is a quart 
beer-Ujttle which has passed 
through a severe fire, the 
intense heaL and pressure 
causing the bottle to assume 
the strange shape shown. 
Strangely enough k did not 
crack, and still holds liquid as 
well as formerly. This photo, 
is kindly sent \iy Mr. \Y. ft 
Tilton, Prairie Depot t Q, 


This photograph is one of 
a lignum-vim tree about 7111. 
or 8in. in diameter, growing 

M.icD, Campbell, 8, 
Duke Street, Kingston, 
Jamaica, very kindly 

ends il to us for repro- 

net ion. 


This extraordinary 
jipeciiiR-ri of a gate is 
owned, very appropri- 
ately* by a farmer, and 
leads into the farm -yaid 
itself, Mr. C W.Ashley, 
of 42, Kut I a nil Square, 
Boston, Mass., dis- 
covered this curiosity, 
and promptly snapped 
it for the benefit of our 
readers* Inter alia, the 
gfttC is made of a plough, 
a harrow, a spade, a 

through the wheel of a 
gun-carriage at Fort 
Nugent, a fortification 
with eleven guns 
which was one of the 
defences to the east of 
Kingston, Jamaica, 
abuul 100 years ago. 
The fort has since then 
been abandoned, and 
is uow quite a pic- 
turesque ruin. The 
seed from which the 
tree grew was evi- 
dent ly con veyed p u rel y 
by mischance to the 
estrange spot it occu- 
Ipies* The photograph 
includes a view of the 
breech-end of one of 
the guns, which is, 
however, partly hid- 
den by the tree, Mr. 
Geoffrey C Gunter 
look the photograph, 
and Mr, Dngald 

hoe, and a hay -fork j 
the plough-chain, let 
it be noled, is used 
to faslen this extra- 
ordinary doorway* 

by L.iOOQl€ 


Mr. J. T, Ash- 
brook, of Hebron, 
Neb., in sending this 
C 11 r i u s - 1 u o k i n g 
picture, says; M This 
photo, was uninten- 
tionally obtained by 
accidentally striking 
the shutter of my 
camera, which 1 
was holdi tag on my 
lap, while out for 
a drive in my 
buggy." Note 
especially the feet 
of our willy - nilly 



Tree-felling is an occupation accompanied by 
much danger to life and limb, yet the small number 
of accidents [hat one hears of bears eloquent testi- 
mony to the skill ami courage displayed by the 
men who undertake this perilous work, Mr. J s , J. 
Gane, of Curs ham, Wilts, in sending this photo., 


?i% & - f ; 


writes ; " This is not a Boer retreat or a war-dance, 
but workmen in the act of clearing out from under a 
falling tree. Owing to limited sfwee, I he jndtiug on 
the rope had to be proceeded with very carefully, and 
the men had instructions to bolt on the tree com- 
mencing to fall, which order they did not fail iool»«)\ 15 

Our next photograph, kind!) sent us by Miss 
Margaret 1L Knight, of Langporl. Somerset* is of a 
bicycle model constructed of ordinary gum labels and 
held together by a pin and a net-die only. It is 
com pi el e in almost every detail. The wheels, 
pedals, chain* and steering-gear work quite smoothly. 
Jt was made by the lady's Brother, Mr. Ash ton Knight, 
and is a striking tribute tu his ingenuity and patience* 

These ingenious little models of dogs are made of 
odd bits of paper, pressed between the fingers, not 
cut in any way, and represent various breeds of dogs, 
as well as the single figure ol a stag with antlers ; 
this latter animal may be seen, perched on a lofty 
crag in the background, in the act of making friends 
v^th a French poodle nearly twice its own size, The 
interesting little curiosities were photographed by 
Mr. Gerald Skipwilh, of 34, Moore Street, Oidogan 
Square, a nephew of the originator of the figures. 


Mere is an instance of remarkable acu^ 
men in advertisings The advertisement, 
whkh reads j "Hillside Poultry Ranch* 
Fresh Fggs, Poultry for Family Use. Eggs 
laid while you wait," is the sign -board of a 
chicken ranch near Fruit vale* California* 
Mr. A. E. Aclc torn* of 2205, Fillmore Street, 
San Francisco, Cal., is responsible for this 

hltL1 ©fl^rlrt , ftoriV 11 * 


(""rw^nL'' Original from 


{See tagc 129,) 

by Google 

Original from 


The Strand Magazine. 

AUGUST, 1900. 

No. 116. 

The Sentry on the Lifebuoy 

IJy Walter Wood. 

HE last troop- train drew up at 
the little platform, and the 
men got out of the bare com- 
partments* It was a mere 
detail of a train- a small tank- 
engine with a couple of 
carriages, for it was only running alongside 
with a draft of infantry. In front of the 
troops was a great shed, and through the 
doorways some of them could see the trans- 
port, ready for getting into the river. The 
men were marched into the shed, and fell 
ravenously upon their breakfast, although it 
was now noon. The meal over, they seized 
their kits and rifles and filed up the steep 
gangway. As the last section marched out of 
the shed a wild-eyed man pushed in between 
two of the privates and hurried up with 
them. In his eagerness to get on board 
he stumbled, and saved himself from falling 
by snatching at the man in front. The 
soldier's khaki helmet was knocked 
off, he himself was dragged backward, 
and his rifle fell from his hand as he 
clutched the gangway's side to save 
himself. The soldier rescued his 
helmet and rifle, and then turned 
savagely round to say what he thouj. 
He was a ferocious fellow outwardly 
and would have crushed the oflendc 
with a look. He expected to find 
that the wrong-doer was a com- 
rade, and had pref>ared his speech 
accordingly ; when he saw a poor, 
meaoj ill - clad, hungry - looking 
civilian his heart melted, and 
he kept silence. 

M Sorry, matey," said the 
stranger ; " but I'm a fireman 
on this steamer, and I'm in a 
split to get below, or they'll 
sack me. That's why I tum- 
bled over you. A fellow lias 
to rush to make a livin' nowa- 

"It's all right/' said the 
soldier, appeased ; "but you'll 
jerk your neck out of joint if 
you run upstairs like that. 
Clutch me an' clutch my 

v„,„_«. .Google 

body, but let my rifle an 1 'clmet alone in 
future; an' don't you shove in between us 
like that — it isn't military. As for you bein J 
a fireman-— well, you may be, but I thought 
they wore blue uniforms an* brass 'elmets." 
The soldier was a recruit from the country, 
and his knowledge of steamers and of those 
that go clown to the sea in them was slight. 
He stepped on the deck as he finished 
speaking, and the wild-eyed man stepped 
also. The soldier's boots made a heavy 
sound, but the fireman's thin shoes were 
noiseless, and as he ran along the deck he 
made only a soft patter. 

The soldier stared after him for an instant 
41 1 shall know that face again, JJ he muttered. 
"It'll haunt me. He may be honest, but 




Original fr 



he looks as if he'd done murder, an' had the 
hangman at his heels. Poor devil ! I 
suppose that mean little bundle's all the 
property he has in the world. My kit's fat, 
compared to that." 

for the present he forgot the fireman in 
attending to his own duties. There was his 
helmet to put in the helmet-room, his rifle to 
place in the armoury, his kit to stow away 
for the voyage, and a dozen odd things to do 
before he could hurry on deck to take a last 
look at the people on the quays. He cast a 
curious eye round the troop-deck, with its 
guard-room and its cell, the last of which he 
liked so little that he there and then re- 
solved that he would never be its occupant ; 
sauntered along the horse-deck, peeped into 
the troop-galley, and wondered how, in so 
small a place, cooking was done for so many 
men; patted the noses of a few of the 
horses, and assured them that he would feel 
worse than they did when the open sea was 
reached ; marvelled where the water came 
from for all the drinking-taps, and generally 
how a ship built of steel and having floors of 
concrete like this could by any possibility 

When the soldier, by surname Crook, got 
on deck again, wearing three shades of khaki 
on his body and a deep blue Tam-o'-shanter 
on his head, the transport had moved 
from the quay and the men were shouting 
farewell to the people ashore, some of whom 
were waving handkerchiefs, and some holding 
babies up to let their fathers see them. He 
thanked God that no one was saying farewell 
to him, and that it could not matter to any 
relative whether he came back from the war 
or stayed, because he had no relatives alive 
that he knew about or cared for in the least. 

He smoked his pipe placidly, and watched 
with interest as, stern first, the transport got 
out of the dock into the Thames, and held 
his place until the bows were pointing down 
the river and the ship was sailing for the 
Cape, her own siren bellowing, and the tune 
being taken up by every neighbouring steamer, 
large and small. 

The transport, No. 128, single-funneled, 
two-masted, twin-screw, churned her way 
down the Thames, dropped her pilot, and 
forged along the open sea. 

On the night of the sixth day out Crook was 
on sentry over one of the stern lifebuoys. He 
came from an inland town, and was still too 
curious about the steamer and her build and 
fittings to let the time drag wearily. So far 
the run had been perfectly smooth ; there 
had been no sea, and Crook was privately of 

by K: 



opinion that the waves did not exist which 
could 'disturb a great bulk like the transport's. 
To him the lifebuoy, with its devices for 
lighting, refreshing, and keeping afloat any 
man or woman in the sea who could get hold 
of it, was a fearsome invention, and he 
brought all his intelligence to bear to under- 
stand it. The bright stars, the clear night 
air, the rush of the air past him, sharpened 
his perception, but the puzzle was beyond his 
solving, and with a baffled sigh he turned 
away, looked astern at the long, broad, white 
wake which showed dimly in the darkness, 
and fell to wondering how the ship was 
pushed along like that. 

"It's a queer thing altogether," he muttered. 
"But after all, this lifebuoy is the queer- 
est. I wonder what sort of drink it is that's 
in the bottle. By George— what a thing it 
'ud be if some dark night the sentry uncorked 
it on the sly an' drank the stuff. Halloa ! 
Who's that?" 

Instinctively he swung round and ported 

"It's all right, matey," said a hoarse voice. 
" It's only me." 

" An' who are you ? " demanded Crook. 

" The fireman that came up the gangway 
when you did. I'm sweltered below, an' I've 
just come up for a breath of air." 

"You'll have to go somewhere else to 
breathe," answered Crook. "You can't 
come here, an' you ought to know it. You're 
a member of the crew, aren't you ? " 

"Yes ; but I might as well be a dog. You 
don't know what bein' a fireman is on board 

" Come, get out o' this — you can't stay 
here. The officers '11 be up directly from 
their dinner, and I wouldn't be myself for 
something if I'm caught talking to you." 

" But I'm chokin'," said the fireman. " I 
can't breathe anywhere, but 'ere. When 
you've got five hundred horses an' five 
hundred men on board a ship like this 
you've got to do things that aren't quite 
accordin' to orders. Besides, they're not so 
strict as they were at first, an' a hired trans- 
port like this isn't to be compared with one 
o' the crack mail-boats out o' Southampton. 
I tell you I know, for I've run this trip two 
or three times since the war began. I've 
chummed with a lot o' your chaps who'll 
never see England again." 

The fireman became a fascinating person 
to the sentry. For the present Crook allowed 
his orders to remain in abeyance. He wanted 
to talk with the fireman and learn things 
from him, so he looked sharply along the 
Original from 




deck> and, seeing no one about, he said, 
" Look here, I'll chat a bit with you, because 
we Ye alone, but as soon as a soul appears, off 
you go, or Til stick you." 

" It isn't as if I didn't belong to the ship," 
whined the fireman. il You see, I'm a 
member of the crew, signed on, an' all that 
sort of thing. I think I'll list when I land 
this time." 

"They may take you m the Muck Train," 
said Crook, " but not anywhere else. You 
aren't built for a soldier, from what I've seen 
o* you. But what the deuce are you shiverin' 
so for?" 

" It's the bitter cold," said the fireman. 

" Cold ! Wh;r, it's as warm as a ? oven. 
J Ere, come away from that lifebuoy —what 
are you erawlin* round it that way for ? Get 
in front o* me, so's I can keep a* eye on you. 
There- that's right Now, then, tell me 
what yoifve seen o* the Boers, What's old 
Kroojerlike? But stop a minute— as soon 
as I whisper * *Sh ! s like that, you'll know 

there's somebody ro.ning, an' 
it as if you'd been baynitted. 
have you ever seen Kroojer ? " 

" Yes," retried the fireman, 
"I saw him up country once, 
when I worked in the dia- 
mond mines," 

"Oh ! Is that why you're 
shiverin' so much ? Have you 
got the aig ? " 

" No ; I tell you it's the 
change from hot to cold, I've 
come straight up from the 

"Then I think you'd better 
go straight down again, 1 ' said 
Crook. "You aren't as in- 
terest!^ as I thought you 
would be, an' I'm sure I shall 
never learn anything useful 
from you. Besides, you'll die 
on my hands if I'm not careful, 
an' I don't want to be mixed 
up in a mess like that. I can 
just make you out, an' you 
look as if you'd sink on the 
floor Be off, or you'll get 
clapped in clink.'' 

He turned towards the taflT- 
rail and began pacing about 
to show that, so far as he was 
concerned, the interview was 
completely ended. As he did 
so the fireman rushed at the 
lifebuoy, and with feverish 
hands began to unlash it 

you must op 
Now, then, 

For the moment Crook was too much amazed 
to act ; then he darted forward and struck at 
the figure with the butt -end of his rifle. 
There was a dull sound, a curse, and a wild 
spring at the alert sentry. The thin figure 
of the fireman fell upon and twined about 
the sentry, but only for a second or two. 
Letting his rifle go, Crook flung himself 
against the stranger and rolled with him on 
the deck, his fingers gripping his throat. 

11 What devil's mischief are you up to ? " 
demanded Crook, "Tell me, or I'll throttle 

His prisoner tried to speak, but the grip 
was too hard, and he only gurgled. 

The noise of the struggle brought up some 
of the soldiers who were loitering about the 
decks ; and Crook's company officer, who 
had just lighted a cigar, sauntered up, 
puzzled and interested. 

Crook jerked his prisoner to his feet^ and 
held him fast while he took up his rifle. 

" What's the matter?" asked the officer. 

" Let me go ! Let me go ! " screamed the 
prisoner. u Let me go, or it'll be too late ! " 

by Google 


Original from 



" Quietly," said the officer ; " no one's 
going to eat you. Now, what's all this 
bother about ? What were you doing here ? " 

" He'll wriggle away," cried Crook, pant- 
ingly. " I can't hold him, sir. Can I hand 
him over to somebody else ? " 

" You needn't hold him, need you ? " said 
the officer, in surprise. 

" Needn't I just, sir?" answered Crook. 
" You should ha' seen him try to steal the 
lifebuoy an' spring overboard with it. I saw 
his game ; an' he nearly did it, too." 

" Get hold of the man, Wilkin," said the 
officer to a soldier near him. " Who are 

He addressed the fireman, but the fireman 
only struggled fiercely, and screamed, " Let 
me go ! Let me go ! " 

" Come, come," said the captain. " Don't 
be a baby. What's the matter? What do 
you want to steal a lifebuoy for ? " 

" He's off his chump, sir," explained 
Crook. " Must be. I thought so when I 
saw him rush on to the ship at the dock. I 
sized him up then as a wrong 'un, an' I'm 

ri B ht - W 

"Come," said the captain, sternly, "give 

an account of yourself." 

He might as well have appealed to the 
ship herself. The fireman struggled and 
foamed ; he fought so hard that the captain 
had to order more men to help Wilkin to 
control him. Even then the captive managed 
to drag himself and the soldiers to the 
vessel's side, and almost to escape from them 
and throw himself into the sea. All the 
time he shrieked to them to let him go, 
saying that it would be too late. 

" Take him into the guard-room," said the 

The men fell upon the furious form, 
pinning it by the arms and legs, crippling its 
power of movement, and dragged it along 
the deck, down the hatchway to the horse- 
deck, then down to the troop-deck, and 
between the mess-tables to the guard-room 
in the bows. 

"Put him in the cell; he's mad drunk," 
ordered the captain. "It'll be time to 
reason when he's sober." 

They thrust the frail figure through the 
guard-room door, then into the little room 
on the right, above which an electric lamp 
was burning, and between which and the 
guard-room at the top there was a row of 
short strong iron bars. The door was locked 
upon him, and the fireman was left hurling 
himself against it, trying to tear the bars 
away, and then attempting to thrust himself 

through one of the portholes, which he had 
managed to open. But he could not get 
even his head in, and he returned to the 
door and screamed to them to let him out, 
for God's sake. 

There was a general officer on board the 
transport, going out to take over the com- 
mand of a division. He heard the noise 
and the screams and walked down to see 
what the confusion meant. 

" Is he one of our own men ? " he asked, 
mindful of military jurisdiction. 

" No, sir— he belongs to the ship — one of 
the firemen, they say," answered the captain. 
" But he was so violent that I thought I'd 
better have him brought down here, especially 
as he was interfering with one of the sentries." 

" What's he howling like that for ? " asked 
the general, irritably, as another fearful cry 
came from the cell, followed by the thuds of 
the body of the fireman as he hurled himself 
impotently against the door. " Let him be 
brought out and taken somewhere else — I 
suppose the ship's people have a place to put 
him in. Anyway, it's no business of ours." 

The guard opened the door and let the 
prisoner come out. He knocked two or 
three of them down as he rushed from the 
cell, and was dashing down the troop-deck 
when he was seized almost at the general's 

" Let me go ! " he screamed. " Ah ! you, 
sir — you'll listen. I'll tell you everything — 
but be quick —there isn't a second to be 

" What is it ? " asked the general, placidly. 
" Don't grip him so hard, men — he wants to 
tell me something privately. Yes, you may 
come and whisper it, if that's what you 

The fireman stretched himself on his toes, 
the soldiers holding his wrists still, and in 
one sentence told the general what he had 
to say. 

The general's face blanched, but in the 
light of the troop-deck no one saw the change. 
" And that is true ? " he said, in a low voice, 
to the fireman. 

" God's truth, as I stand here, sir," said the 
fireman. " I was paid to do it, and I brought 
it on board in a bundle. There's time to 
save you all, even yet. I'll show you where 
it is. There's time — just time." He almost 
grovelled before the officer as he spoke. The 
men looked on in silence, marvelling, but 
not understanding what was meant. 

" Come," said the general. " Everybody 
else stay here. " Make way, there," he ; 
cried, and the crowding troops and crew fell 

by LiOOgle 

■--■i i '-i 1 1 1 ti i \\\ 




"there's time— just time!" 

back instinctively, wondering what the awful 
looks upon the faces of the general and the 
fireman meant 

The fireman, with starting eyes, led the 
way to the deck below, then deeper still, 
until the general found himself, as he sup- 
posed, at the very bottom of the vessel 
They went into the starboard engine- room ; 
then the fireman forced himself past an 
expostulating engineer, and into one of the 
stokeholes. He went straight to a bunker, 
and began burrowing at the coal in the semi- 

"Let him alone/' said the general, sternly, 
seeing that one or two trimmers were about 
to seize him and push him away. "He's 
looking for something. Ah ! he's got it ! 
Now, then, out of the way there, out of the 
way ! tT he cried, in a loud, excited voice. 

The fireman, carrying in his arms what 
looked like a small clock in a case, stumbled 
along, with the sweat pouring from his face, 

Digitized by GOOgfc 

his eyes bulging, his teeth show- 
ing through his parted lips, and 
his breath coming and going so 
quickly that it almost kept pace 
with the throbbing of the engines. 
Up through the troop -deck, 
through the horse-deck they went, 
the fireman and the general, and 
with a groan the carrier of the 
burden stepped into the cool air 
and staggered to the steamer's 

"Give it to me," said the 

He took the case from the 
trembling hands, raised it above 
his head, and with all the force 
of his strong arms hurled it over 
the sea. There was the sound of 
a splash in the water, then a deep 
roar, and a luminous column of 
water rose ghost-like out of the 

" Thank God ! " murmured the 
general, as he saw it. *' We were 
just in time." 

Crook saw it and was amazed* 

" I suppose it's one of the wonders 

of the deep," he said to himself* 

" 1 wish they wouldn't come so 

thick — they give me the blues," 

A crowd of officers and men 

saw the explosion too ; but 

although one or two of them, 

being of a scientific turn of mind, 

suspected vaguely, no one as yet 

knew T what the real truth was. 

Even the general had to learn the details* 

He turned round and saw that the fireman 

was lying prostrate on the deck, overcome 

by terror and exhaustion. 

"(Jet up, JJ he said, "and follow me to my 

The fireman rose and obeyed. 
"Send for the sentry on the lifebuoy 
astern : lot him be relieved till I've done 
with him," said the general to his orderly ; 
and Private Crook appeared, wonderingly. 

" Tell me what happened between you and 
this man, sentry," said the general, indicating 
the fireman. 

Crook told his story up to the time of the 
coming of his captain. 

11 That'll do — you can wait outside, Keep 
within call, and have your rifle ready," said 
the general, and Crook readily persuaded 
himself that there was special significance in 
the allusion to the rifle. 

"Yes, sir,'*. said Crook. He slapped the 
Original from 




S \ 



barrel of his Lee-Met ford smartly by way 
of salute, turned , and left the cabin. He 
planted himself rigidly at the door, and 
waited with sharp ears for a summons. 

"If you're going to shoot me, sir," said 
the fireman, his eyes wide and his voice 
weak with terror, " I won't tell you a single 
thing, so help me God— an 1 I can tell you a 

"If you were hanged without a hearing it 
would be no more than you deserve,'* said 
the general, sternly. "Shooting is too clean 
a death for you," 

" But I saved the ship an' all your lives," 
pleaded the prisoner, miserably. " Promise 
that you'll let me go, sir, an' I'll tell you all. 1 * 

The general was curious, and, as the 
danger was past, lie thought he might hold 
out hope of easy treatment Hut he tem- 
porized* "I can't give you any undertaking," 
he said. il You have put yourself into the 
hands of the law, and you must be prepared 
for the consequences." 

"It isn't as if the worst had come to the 
worst, sir, nor as if I wasn't sorry for it an' 
hadn't tried to show my grief." 

* l You were terrified into it," retorted the 

u Well, sir," said the prisoner, feeling that 

Digitized byG* 

his life was certain to be 
spared, il seein' that no 
one knows but you, an' 
that there isn't a bit of 
danger now, wouldn't it be 
best to hear mv story ? ' J 

"Tell it, then," said 
the general, curtly. 

" But 1 have your word 
of honour that I shall be 
let go, sir ? " said the fire- 

The general hesitated. 
An offence like this would 
be lightly punished by 
penal servitude for lift: ; 
and yet it might be better 
to hear the man's explana- 
tion and let turn go. 

44 If I think that what 
you tell me justifies me in 
setting you free," he said, 
" you may leave the ship 
at the first port ; if not, 
you must abide by the 
result. Are you willing to 
do ihat and leave the 
matter to me ? ,J 

li Yes, sir, 1 am," said 
the fireman, " because 
think the information 
111 risk it. The story's 
short. I was at Kimberley just before the 
war broke out, seeing if I could make any- 
thing out of the mines, as I'd got sick o' 
stokin' ocean tramps. Just before I left a 
Boer from Pretoria sounded me to see 
whether I'd join in the plan that they'd drawn 
up to stagger humanity, as they called it. He 
named his price and explained his scheme. 
It made me pretty sick, but I couldn't help 
myself. He gave me a hundred down, and 
I came right away to London and spent it in 
a week. Another man took me in charge as 
soon as I landed, and didn't leave me till I 
was safely on board. I had all my instruc- 
tions plainly put to me in a little den in 
Bromley, and knew just what I had to 
do. The London man gave me a little 
machine that was choked with dynamite, 
and would explode with a bit of clock- 
work. All I had to do was to get on 
board as a stoker, stow myself away, and 
plant the machine. When we were near Las 
Palmas I was to start the works and escape. 
Being used to the sea, I knew the lifebuoy 
arrangement, and trusted to that, but I 
hadn't reckoned on the sentry. When I'd 
started the clockwork — it was supposed to run 
Original from 


I reckon you'll 
cheap. Any way j 



for at least two hours before exploding the 
dynamite — I rushed on deck and got to the 
stern. But there was the sentry as sharp as 
a needle. If it hadn't been for him I should 
have got into the sea, and should have 
cruised round in the lifebuoy till a boat — 
arranged for in Pretoria — picked me up. 
On landing I was to receive a thousand 

" And all this is true ? " asked the general. 

" Gospel," the fireman assured him. 
11 You see, the machine worked all right. 
You saw it go off. I suppose they didn't 
mean in Pretoria — the skunks ! — to give me 
a chance of getting my money, because the 
clockwork hadn't gone for more than half 
an hour." 

" You knew there were five hundred men 
and five hundred horses on board ? " There 
was a terrible look on the face of the general 
as he put this question. 

"Yes, sir." 

" And that not a soul could have lived ? " 

" It's pretty awful, sir, I know ; but they 
had me in their clutches. But what are you 
goin' to do, sir?" The fireman spoke in 
terror, for the general had risen and was 
walking, with a hard face, towards him. 
" Remember your promise." 

"I have made up my mind," said the 
general. " Sentry, lead this man to the life- 
buoy. I want him to show me how he was 
handling it when you stopped him." 

Crook took the fireman by the arm, 
gripping his loaded rifle as he led him aft. 

"You can go back to the guard-room," 
said the general to the soldier who had 
relieved Crook, and the man went, but 
unwillingly. He was burning to know what 
was happening. 

"Keep this part of the ship clear of 
everybody for a minute or two," cried the 
general, and a little crowd of men who had 
assembled vanished. 
• " Now I want you," said the general, in a 
quiet voice, " just to show me how you were 
acting when the sentry here tried to stop 
you. How were you going to get the buoy 
overboard ? Sentry, you're not supposed to 
hear this." 

"No, sir," said Crook ; "I'm deaf." 

The fireman jumped lightly to the outside 
of the rail, and began to unlash the buoy. 
His confidence was restored, and he felt 
some sort of pride in himself. 

"And how would you have got over- 

board ? " asked the officer, after the way of a 
student who was taking an intelligent interest 
in a demonstration. 

" Leaned out like this, grabbing the buoy, 
just let go the lashin', an' plunged into the 
water. I should just have missed the 

" Just pulled this rope— like this? " asked 
the general. 

" Yes ; but, for God's sake, sir, don't pull 
it like that, or " 

There was a wild cry on the still night, 
and the fireman and the buoy fell from the 
transport's side. 

Crook, true to his order not to hear, made 
no movement; he left it to the general to 
raise the alarm of a man overboard. They 
stopped the way of the steamer and got a 
boat into the water ; but, although they got 
the buoy back again — it was floating far 
astern, and the light upon it burned placidly 
— they returned without the man. They had 
never seen him. 

"I expect the screws caught him," said 
the transport's captain, as he signalled to the 
engineers, "and in that case he positively 
wouldn't have a chance. It's a very extra- 
ordinary affair, sir." 

" Very," replied the general, but he 
volunteered no explanations. Nor, for many 
reasons, did he tell the story. He was a 
modest man, and brave, and did not want 
flattering for his own nerve. He had saved 
the ship, but that was only his duty, and 
there was no necessity to talk about it. 

But he considered it advisable to keep a 
friendly eye on Crook, who might have been 
disposed to talk. He assured him that 
he was a smart and alert soldier, and that 
he would not forget him. Nor did he, for 
when Crook went up-country in the general's 
division he found himself a sergeant very 
soon ; and if the enemy had not lopped off 
an arm he would no doubt have become a 
second-lieutenant before the war was over. 
But Crook is philosophical, and says it might 
have been a good deal worse. True, he has 
lost his promotion, as well as a limb, but 
then, as he says, he might have been killed. 

Crook, under no pledge of secrecy — he is 
invalided home now — has told me the story. 
"The point I'm most dubious about," he 
said, " is this — Did that fireman chap fall 
over, or did the general give that rope a' 
accidental pull ? " 


by Google 

Original from 

The Cleverest Child in the World. 

By Professor H, Olerich. 

:: ^ £UA*2i 

■ffifc readers 

HE writer has been 

asked to tell the 

of The 

Strand Magazine 

of the wonderful 
educational attainments of 
Viola Rosalia Olerich, who is 
conceded to be by far the most 
advanced juvenile scholar that 
ever lived— at least, so far as 
records on this subject are pre- 
served. I shall endeavour to 
tell the story of her wonderful 
life in the simplest way in 
which my words and pictures 
can do so. 




birth and 

Viola Rosalia Olerich was born 

in the Citv of Des Moines, Iowa 

(U.S. A,), 'February 

ioth, 1897. I and 

my wife adopted 

her when she was 
eight months and four days old. 
At the time of adoption we 
resided in Lake City, Iowa, 
where the writer was superin- 
tendent of the public schools, 
On the 25th of July, 1^99, we 
moved to Council Bluffs, Iowa, 
where Viola has resided with us 
ever since, and has received all 
her instruction from us at home. 

Our chief object for 

adopting a child 

was to test, in a 

practical way, a new theory of 

education, which we believe to 
be much superior to any educa- 
tional system which has hereto- 
fore been used. The wonderful 
success with which we have so 
far met must, we think, stand 
as evidence of its merit. It is 
briefly outlined in this article. 

No attempt was 

made to select a 





A I- I W I i A \ '< 

From « i>huto. 


particular child; on 
the contrary, we 
desired to get an average child, 
Hence, physical health was the 
only point of pedigree which 
we regarded as of vital import- 
ance, and even of this we knew 
little or nothing. 


by Google 

We keepi perhaps, 
a more complete 
daily record of 
Viola J s progress 
than was ever before kept of a 
child. The data used in this 
article are taken from this diary. 
This affords the reader an 
assurance that the facts given 
in this sketch were not jotted 
down at random from 
memory, as they loo often 
are in such cases, but are as 
accurate as cautious clerical 
work can reasonably make 

physical Viola's physical conditions 
characteristics, at the time of adoption 
were not very flattering. She 
was a pale, an almost sickly- 
looking, baby, with a mouth 
that was a little crooked, and 
the right side of her face con- 
siderably fuller than the left. 
These defects soon began to 
diminish and disappear. Her 
cheeks assumed a healthy 
colour, and her face grew 
symmetrical Viola's size and 
weight are about an average. 
At the time of adoption she 
weighed 141b. ioz., and was 2ft. 
i 4 iin, high* Now she weighs 
30IU Soz.j and is a little over 3ft. 
in height. Baby is now regarded 
as a " beautiful blonde, with brilliant eyes, soft 
golden hair, and a charming personality," 

At the time Viola 
early came to live with 
conduct, us she was a cry- 
baby, as may be 
seen from the first picture, 
which was taken two days after 
her adoption. We immediately 
began to teach her to amuse 
herself by playing on the floor 
with her simple toys, She soon 
learned to like this so well that 
she did not want to be held 
much. She thus learned early 
to amuse herself, a knowledge 
which is of inestimable value, 
and which every person, young 
and old, should possess in the 
Original from 









fullest measure. By being thus kindly treated 
and busily employed her habit of crying 
rapidly diminished, • and her disposition 
became continually more jovial and amiable. 

Viola has always been permitted 

to eat as much of everything as 

she desired. Between meals she 

has always eaten whenever her 
appetite prompted her to do so. At the age 
of one year and six months she received her 
little lunch-counter, in which we always keep 
a supply of bread, crackers, etc., for her ; and 
whenever she wants to eat between meals she 
goes to her lunch-counter, opens the lid, and 
eats as much as she wants, as she may be 
seen doing on page 135. When she has 
finished eating she almost invariably closes the 
lid and goes on playing. This practice is not 
only a useful lesson in establishing a healthy 
appetite, but is also a valuable lesson in order. 

Ever since Viola was with us she 
sleeping, has slept alone and retired alone. 

The first few months she slept 
twice during the day. She has never 
been rocke$, carried, or put to sleep. A 
child should have plenty of free, pleasant 
sleep, and a helpless child should always be 
taken up immediately after it wakes. It 
should never be first compelled to cry for 
assistance. To compel it thus to cry soon 
converts it into a cry-baby. 

Apart from incidental colds and 
state of the measles, baby has always 
health, enjoyed the best of health. She 

has been growing continually 
more vigorous from the first day she came to 
live with us. 

I have always treated Viola with 

how the utmost kindness and courtesy ; 

treated, have never even spoken a loud 

or harsh word to her. It is my 
opinion that every " bad boy " and every 
" bad girl " has been made bad by meddle- 
some interference. It has been said : " Spare 
the rod and spoil the child," but modern 
science, as well as common sense, is begin- 
ning to say : " Destroy the rod and refine the 
child." Intelligence, kindness, and freedom 
are, no doubt, the only factors that can really 
reform and refine the world. 

Viola has acquired all her know- 

method ledge in the form of play. She 

used, has never " studied " a lesson in 

her life ; has never been asked 
to take a book. Her whole life has been a 
continuous game of delightful play. The 
writer invented and constructed much of the 
attractive educational apparatus with which 
the keen interest for learning was awakened, 

Digitized by COOgfC 


and after surrounding her with this appa- 
ratus she has enjoyed complete freedom as 
to what and when to learn. She has always 
been the judge in this choice, and not we. 
All we do is to create an interest in learning 
and activity in whatever direction we desire 
her to develop. 

Partly for the purpose of amusing 
herself, partly for creating an 
interest for books, and partly for 
the purpose of learning to handle 
books, Viola received her first book when 
she was thirteen months old. Soon after 
this we began to direct her attention to 
objects in the pictures and told her some 
interesting facts about them. In a few days 
she became intensely interested in these 
simple exercises. She soon brought her 
book to us for a lesson very frequently. At 
the time we gave her this book we also put 
up an artistic little shelf in a convenient 
place in the sitting-room, and told her that 
this little shelf would make a nice library for 
her new book, when she was not using it. 
She learned the lesson of keeping her book 
on it very readily. This was an important 
lesson in order. 

With her first book she played for two 
months, after which it was put away and 
another kind of First Reader given her, 
which she also used for two months in a 
similar manner. She played with these 
books very much — perhaps from two to 
three hours a day. The forepart of the first 
book is considerably torn ; the second is 
slightly torn in only two places. These 
simple exercises awakened an early interest 
for pictures and books, cultivated a taste 
for observation, strengthened attention, de- 
veloped caution and memory, greatly enlarged 
her vocabulary, and created an appreciation 
of order and beauty; in fact, they started 
the development of most of the mental 

She could give one sound of every letter 
when she was seventeen months old ; then 
she learned to read short sentences which 
she had learned to speak readily. We 
printed these sentences on cards, and she 
learned to read them by the sentence-method. 
We then began to use the word-method also. 
In this way we used all the methods in an 
attractive way; sometimes one and some- 
times another. 

When Viola was two years and eleven 
months old she could read at sight, with force 
and expression, almost any reading-matter in 
the English language. She could also read 
German nicely before she was three years 






old. At the age of three years and two 
months she read English, German, and 
French. There is, perhaps, not a word in 
the Baldwin series of school- readers, from 
the first, including the sixth, which she can- 
not readily read at sight 

German and French she learned to 
read almost exclusively by the sentence- 
method* The sentence is the unit of 
thought. We think in terms of sentences, 
and not in terms of words of elementary 
sounds* For this reason is the senunee- 
method the easiest and most attractive for 
little children, and produces by far the best 
readers. A young child should learn to read 
such sentences as it readily uses in 
its daily conversation, rather than 
learn rn^w sentences by reading. 
This course makes the reading easy, 
delightful, and intelligible. 

At the age of twenty 
months Viola could read 
all the digits, and re- 
cognise nine colours : 
white, black, and the seven pris- 
matic colours. We taught the digits 
by printing large figures on pretty 
blocks which were hung on the wall. 
Each block had also a number of 
bright tacks in it corresponding to 
the numerical value of the digits. 
The colours were taught by fasten- 
ing coloured ribbons to blocks, 
hung up in the same manner as the 
number blocks. These blocks were called 
for by number or colour whenever the baby 
and we felt disposed to play with them. 
Baby would then go and get the one she 
thought we had called for* We began with 
two blocks and gradually increased the number 
of them. At twenty-two months she could read 
all numbers not over ioo* Now she reads 
numbers as large as octillions. She is also 
familiar with quitea number of shades and tints. 
When she was one year and nine 
DRAWING, months she could draw the fol- 
lowing on the black -board, or 
with pencil, when requested : A vertical line, 
a horizontal line, a slanting line, a cross, a 
ladder, and a circle. Since that time she 
has learned to draw many other things. 
Upon request she will now draw any kind of 
a line used in plane geometry, all the various 
kinds of triangles and quadrilaterals, a sphere, 
a square and a triangular prism, a pyramid 
and cone and their frustums* leaves of trees, 
and many other things of that nature. We 
began drawing with straight lines on the 
black-board, and explained their position ; 

then we took up the triangle, curved line, 
etc* gradually proceeding from the simple to 
the more complex. 

Viola learned form very readily. 
GEOMKTRi- Before she had attained the age 
cal FORMs.of one year and nine months she 

by LiOOgle 


Fi-om a /'AoJfl, ftf Tucfer* CoamU Itlufa, 

could name and fetch any of the thirty- 
four geometrical forms shown in this 
picture. We first set up only three pieces — 
the square, the circle, and the triangle. Then 
others were added as fast as she learned the 

When Viola was one year and 

national nine months old she knew the 

flags* flags of twenty - five nations* 

When all the flags were set up in 
a line she could get any one called for. In 
all these exercises we began with a few and 
then increased the number. In our teaching 
we never had any particular time set for 
certain lessons, but always followed our 
inclinations. The reader should firmly keep 
in mind that all Violas learning was only 
play, and that she always enjoyed complete 
freedom on all these educational subjects. 

In geography she first learned 
GEOGRAPHY, to locate and then to name 
the States and territories of the 
United States* The map we used for this 
purpose had no names on it. She could 
point to any State and territory and their 




capitals when she was one year and nine 
months old. In this way she could soon 
name, locate, and read the names of 
all the countries and their capitals in the 
world. Then she learned to read and locate 
the names of oceans, lakes, mountains, 
rivers, capes, etc. She can now read almost 
any geographical name given in Frye's 
Geographies, and upon request she can 
find almost any prominent geographical 
name and place in a few seconds, when 
the closed geography is given to her for that 

At the age of one year and ten 
months Viola knew the por- 








presenting nearly all schools of 
thought, both good and bad. She soon 

traits of more than a hundred 
famous men and women, re- 

F ram a Phoio. bf Tucktr, Council Blvff*. Iowa. 

became fond of playing with these pictures, 
and learned to recognise them in a short 

The portraits were set in a card-holder, all 
in plain view, as shown in the picture ; then 
baby was requested to get a certain one. In 
the first lesson only two were used, then the 
number was increased as fast as she learned 
to recognise them. 

Before Viola wan one year and 
eleven months old she knew and 
could name thirty-two different 
kinds of seeds and twenty -five 
kinds of leaves of trees* The seeds were put 
in little bottles and set in a neat case, so that 
all the bottles were in plain view at the same 
time. The leaves were pressed in a large book. 
At the age of one year and eleven 
months she could point to 
almost all the bones of the 
human skeleton s and to many 
organs of the body. She first learned 
to name and locate the femur, then the 
humerus, and so on. Now she can name 
and read the names of all the bones of the 
human skeleton, and locate nearly all of 
them. She can also read, name, and locate 
the external parts of the body. 

Viola knew at sight and 
links and could name the twenty- 
angles, two kinds of lines and 
angles used in geometry 
when she was one year and eleven 
months old. These lines and angles 
were drawn on cards about the size 
of a common envelope, and she 
learned to recognise and name them 
in the same way as she learned the 
portraits, etc. 

At twenty-three months 
she named and recog- 
nised all the denomina- 
tions of United States 
money which is now coined and 
printed by the United States Govern- 
ment, except bills over xoodols. We 
taught her the money by placing it 
in a shallow dish, beginning with the 
penny and the nickel, increasing the 
denominations as fast as she learned 
them. Sometimes we asked her to 
pick out a certain denomination for 
us ; at other times we would pick out 
a piece and ask her to name it. In 
this way she learned to discriminate 
and to name, to observe and to talk, 
all of which are very useful in the 
practical affairs of life. 

When Viola was one year eleven 
examina- months and twenty-five days old 
tion, she passed an examination before 
a disinterested committee of 
examiners (Miss Verna Lumpkin and Miss 
Martha Campbell, both competent and suc- 
cessful teachers of the public schools of 
Lake City, Iowa, the city in which we then 
resided), who found that she knew 2,500 
nouns by having ei:hcr the pictures or the 






From a- Photo, &y Twchsr, Council Bluff*, lovxl* 

objects themselves brought before her, The 
committee estimated that she knew at least 
500 more nouns which they could not 
present as objects or pictures, making a 
total of 3,000 nouns which she knew at 
this age— perhaps more nouns than the 
words of all parts of speech used by the 
average adult. 

This examination was conducted by 
two distinctly different methods. By the 
first a large number of objects, or the 
pictures of them, were placed before 
Viola, and then she was requested to 
bring them one by one, after having heard 
each called for by its appropriate name. 
By the second an object, or a picture of 
it, was held up for inspection, and she 
named it, The latter method was used 
about half the time, although she could 
pronounce fairly well almost all the 
words in the list- The committee com- 
piled a written " record" containing all 
the words of this list. 

At two years she knew 

punctua- twenty - two punctuation 

tiox marks, marks. They were drawn 

on cards, and learned in the 
same way as the portraits, etc. The reader 
will notice that all Viola's learning is in the 
line of practical knowledge— knowledge 


which must be learned before we can 
read intelligently and write correctly. 
Shortly after Viola began 
spelling, to read she also began 
to learn the names of 
the letters and to spell easy 
words, which were printed in large 
letters on cards, and these cards 
could be slipped into a groove on 
one face of attractive blocks* which 
were hung up against the wall, and 
which had pieces of pea nut in them. 
Whenever she wanted a pea-nut we 
would ask her to get a block (we 
called these blocks pea-nut bottles) 
having a certain word on it. If she 
brought the block containing the 
right word she would first spell the 
word by sight, then from memory, 
and also often by sound. In this way 
she learned to spell readily and 
pleasantly, so that at the age of three 
she could spell a long list of words, 
many of them quite difficult, such as 
vinegar, sugar, insect, Viola, busy, 
mamma, Rosalia, February, biscuit, 
Clench, American, Nebraska, Council 
Bluffs, Pompeii, Mediterranean, etc. 
Here is a picture of Viola sitting 
analyzing at her little table examining and 
A flower, naming the different parts of a 


Fftm a I'koto. fr# Tmter h Cpwitrii hi toft, J«ra* 





VHH.A h | | MM TABLE. 
ynmia Phiri&. hg Tucker, Cfevatf] l>!>'fi/r, h>trti. 

flower She is very fond of flowers, and likes 
to separate them into their different parts. 
She can read at sight all the botanical names 
given in Youman's Botany. We have on 
numerous occasions passed this Botany 
and Steele's Zoology to the audience and 
offered a handsome book as a prize to 
anyone who would succeed in finding a 
word in either of these books that Viola 
could not readily pronounce at sight. So 
far no one has succeeded in finding 
such a word. 

Viola could readily read 
writing, manuscript before she began 

to practise writing. Her 
first writing, and also her first drawing, 
exercises were on the black board. She 
never learned to print much, but began 
with manuscript. The small i was the 
first letter she learned to make, then 
** *> h J, «r *, etc. O was the first 
capital letter she made. She now writes 
both words and numbers quite readily* 
In order to make the writing exercises 
pleasant we often interspersed them 
with attractive drawings, 

February 22, 1900, she 

type- received a Smith Premier 

writing, typewriter, and took her 

first lesson in typewriting 
two days after this. In a few days she 
learned to put the paper in, run the 
carriage, feed the paper, and finger the 
whole of the keyboard with both hands. 
She strikes the keys so firmly and 

evenly that the letters are all full 
and distinct. She now not only 
copies manuscript and prints but 
writes very nicely without a 

Viola now (May, 1900} 
knows the name and 
function of all of 
Webster's Diacritical 
Marks. She can cor- 
rectly give out any lesson 
in McCiufieys latest spelling-book, 
where she closely observes the silent 
letters, the diacritical marks, the 
accent, and the syllabication of 
words. She can give all the elemen- 
tary sounds of the English language, 
and can find words in a small 
dictionary. She recognises and 
reads the abbreviations of all 
the States and territories of the 
United States^ of the days of the 
week, of the months of the year, 
and many others. She can quite 
well classify sentences according to use and 
form, and punctuate accordingly. She is quite 
proficient in translating French and Herman 
into English, and is familiar with a large 
number of scientific terms used in astronomy, 
geology, grammar, physical geography, history, 
etc. Her attention, her memory, her obser- 
vation, her power of discrimination, her 
reasoning, and her ability as a critic are as 
marvellous as her other attainments. 

by Google 


Frvm h Photo, bv fl*yn* Omnba. 


T 3^ 


From a FhatQ. by) 


[Tucket , Council lt\nfft„ loaa. 






Viola's educational ability has 
been thoroughly tested in public 
on numerous occasions. She 
performs her work on her little 
elevated stage. Some specimens 

of her educational apparatus may be seen as 

shown in the picture. She is very fond of 

giving these exhibitions, and greatly admires 

the applause of her audience and the 

bouquets which she frequently receives, 

"What do you intend to prove 
with your educa- 
tional experi- 
ment ?" is a 

question very frequently 

asked. In reply to this I 

will say that there are many 

important principles which I 

desire to prove as far as an 

individual ease can furnish 

proof of them, I desire to 

show that a child, at a very 

young age, can be a good 

reader, a skilful writer, an 

excellent speller, and an 

erudite scholar; that free- 
dom and kindness produce 

far better educational results 

than coercion and cruelty ; 

that interest, and not force, 

should be made the incen- 
tive for learning \ that all 

learning should be in the 

form of play; that no injury 

can result to the child, no matter how much it 
learns, so long as it is left completely free; 
that a comparatively young child can readily 
acquire a liberal knowledge of such important 
sciences as physiology, economics, psychology, 
etc, ; that intellectuality and character depend 
almost entirely on post-natal education and 
only very little, if any, on heredity* or pre- 
natal influences arid that every healthy child, 
which is properly educated under the system 
of interest, kindness, and freedom, will have 
an extensive vocabulary and 
a wonderful memory, as 
well as many other unusual 
accomplishments with which 
we now scarcely ever meet. 
The writer is confident that 
with the proper system of 
education, children, before 
they arrive at the age of 
eight, will have a larger store 
of useful knowledge than is 
now possessed by the aver- 
age graduate, and they will 
acquire all this practically 
without any strain or effort, 
The truth of this statement 
may, we think, be easily 
demonstrated in a practical 
way by living examples. So 
far, Viola's rate of educa- 
tion is much in advance 
of the one mentioned 



From a Phati*. by Schmidt, Council Iihi,fi t Ivtm. 

Original from 


A Modern Gelert. 

By Walter Ragge. 

I refrain from giving particu- 
lars of names and places, for- 
give me. I have a haunting 
fear, a fear that may not be 
well founded, that I might be 
sent to prison j so I want every 
zealous and efficient officer who reads this 
narrative to know that he has wasted his 
time : this is fiction, foolish, improbable 
fiction, nothing more. 

Two years ago, in August, I was walking 
peacefully along the esplanade of a certain 
town on the southern coast of England. It 
was evening, and the band was playing on 
the esplanade, which was consequently 
crowded, while the little pier, at other times 
the chief attraction of the place, was almost 
deserted. Suddenly, high above the strains of 
"Tommy Atkins,* ' there smote on our startkd 
ears a woman s scream ; then another, and 
another, and then the deep cry of a strong 
man in mortal agony — "Help, help, help!" 
Tli is sound came from the seaward end of 
thj pier, and the crowd, heaving, swaying, 
the men swearing, the women scream- 
ing out their sympathy, made with one 
accord for the turnstiles. Luckily for 
me, I had been standing 
at that end of the esplan 
ade, and I reached and 
cleared the stiles before 
the crush began. I heard 
the mob struggling and 
smashing the ironsvork as 
I ran up the pi en The 
gate-keeper had left his 
post t and was hurrying as 
fast as his bulk permitted 
in the direction of the 

"Who is it ?" I shouted, 
as I overtook him, 

" Man and woman, 
sir," he gasped; "only 
two on the pier to-night 
—got a covered perambulator with 'em 
— I 'ad to open the gate — ■ — " 

" Then it's the child that's fallen 
over," I cried, and flew the fasten 
Rushing round the little house at 

VoL *&.— 18. 

the end of the pier I came upon the 
hapless pair. The man was standing 
on the seat and had thrown one leg 
oyer the rail ; the woman was clinging 
wildly to his other limb and screaming in a 
manner horrible to hear. However, she was 
not hysterical, for as I came up she turned 
to me : " Hold him back, sir," she cried, "he 
can't swim. Oh, John, the dog'U save her if 
she can be saved*" 

"Is it the child?" I panted 
"Oh, yes, sir," wailed the mother, still 
clinging to her husband's leg; "our little 
girl has fallen over into the sea-" The 
crowd was seething all round us now, and 
twenty voices yelled, "What is it?" 

"A little 
girl has fallen 
over," I shout- 
ed. "(Jo back, 
some of you, 
and get a 
boat and help 
me hold this 
m a n — h e 
can't swim. 
Come back, 
sir, come 
hack," and 
I helped 

by L^OOgle 


Original from 



the woman to pull the poor, frantic wretch 
over the rail again. 

"The dog's gone after her, John," the 
woman cried once more. " You know 
that Nero will save her if she can be 
saved. And jou can't 
swim — you know you 
can't swim." 

" No more can I," 
, I hastened to observe, 
for the woman . 
looked at me ; 
"but perhaps 

someone " I 

had no need to 
say more. A 
young fellow 
behind me 
shouted, "Let 
me through ! " 
and forced his 
way to the front 
bearing a life-belt 
in his hands. 
Without even 
fastening on the 
belt he jumped 
on to the seat 
and threw him- 
self headlong 
over the rail. 
Now, if I had 
seen that belt I 
should have done 
as he did, though 
I cannot swim, 
and though I 
owe a duty to 
my partner to 
preserve my life, 
and after all we 
older fellows 
must be content 
to take the 
second place: 
youth will be 
served. There 
were many younger 
than I among that 
crowd, and they did 
not jump. Besides, I 
had the frantic father 
to protect from his own 
rashness. The electric lights at the end of 
the pier had been switched on ; the cold, 
unsympathetic beams shone down upon 
the troubled water, and we could clearly 
see, for the pier was not a high one, 
the life -belt floating on the waves, and 




close beside it the dark, wet head of the 
foolhardy young man. Then the boat 
that was always moored to the steps of 
the landing-stage swung round the corner 
of the pier, and remember that it was I and 
I alone that had recalled the 
existence of that boat to the 
memory of the thoughtless 
crowd. A hundred eager 
voices hailed her crew, "Do 
you see anything ? — where is 
she? — help, help, 
help!" Then 
there was a 
splash and, 
clearly seen by 
our straining 
eyes, a dark head 
rose up some 
twenty yards 
from where the 
life -belt floated. 
A breathless 
pause and then, 
" It's a dog ! " 
cried the pier- 
keeper, who was 
standing in the 
bows of the boat. 
" Give way, lads, 
there's something 
in his mouth." 

The woman 
gave a rapturous 
cry : " Oh, John, 
what did I tell 
you ? Nero has 
saved her — Nero 
has saved her ! " 

"Three cheers 
for Nero, then," 
I shouted, and 
they were given 
with a will. The 
boat, the man 
with the belt, 
and the brave dog were 
together now. We saw the 
men stop rowing and haul 
man and beast into safety, 
and we cheered again and 
went on cheering. But sud- 
denly there came a shock 
of doubt. Why were they still rowing round 
and round? Good heavens, the man had 
jumped back into the water, and the dog had 
followed him. \Y 7 hat did it mean ? " Is she 
safe ?" we shouted, and then the father's voice, 
" Let me go. Let me go, I must — I will ! " 




But we held him back by force, and cried 
again, " Is she safe ? For God's sake, tell us 
—have you found her ? " 

The pier-keeper called back ; " It was her 
frock that the dog brought up ; but never 
fear, he's dived again — he'll fetch her up." 
Another dreadful pause, and then again the 
dog came up, close to the boat this time, 
and again we saw that there was something 
in his mouth. But we did not cheer; we 
waited breathless, and all the time the 
woman's voice went on, "He'll save her, 
John ; Nero will save her. Oh, kind gentle- 
man, he'll save her, won't he ? " 

The young man had been hauled into the 
boat, exhausted, but the dog had dived once 
more; then the girl was still in the water. 
" He's found her cap," called the pier-keeper. 
Men had run off in all directions for ropes 
and drags, and still the boat rowed slowly 
round and round, and still the dog dived and 
rose and dived again, and still the people 
waited on the pier. But all hope had left us 
now. The poor child must be drowned ; 
search as they might, they could only find a 
corpse. The woman was sobbing bitterly ; 
the man, seated by her side, was plunged in 
the apathy of despair, and paid no heed to 
our attempts at consolation. A tall, stout 
man, with a beard, came hurrying up and 
forced his way through the crowd to where 
the wretched parents sat : he had a note- 
book in his hand. He stepped up to the 
father and laid his hand on his shoulder. 

44 This is a bad business, my poor fellow," 
he said, in a rough but not unkindly voice. 
44 Tell us all about it." The woman had 
raised her head and was staring at him. 

44 Are you a policeman?" she asked, 

" Policeman ? No, no, my good soul, 
I'm a newspaper man. Come, my man ; 
tell us how it happened.*' His bluff manner 
seemed to have a good effect : the poor man 
raised his head, and in broken accents told 
his pitiful story. He was a basket-seller, it 
appeared, travelling with a van from place to 
place. He had come to the outskirts of the 
town at dusk, and, leaving his van by the 
roadside, had come with his wife and child 
to the little pier. The little girl was delicate 
and could not walk far, though she was some 
five years old ; hence the covered perambu- 

44 I've seen better days, sir," the poor 
fellow said, with a piteous smile. "And 
that perambulator's about all I've got to 
remind me of them." 

Indeed, it was obvious both from his 

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speech and manner that this was no common 
basket-seller. The little girl had been lifted 
from the perambulator and was sitting on 
the seat, and while he and his wife had 
turned their eyes away towards the esplanade, 
the accident had happened. 

44 But the dog will save her," sir," broke in 
the woman ; " Nero will save her." The 
reporter looked at me inquiringly. 

44 The dog has jumped after the poor little 
girl," I explained ; " he has found her frock 
and cap, but " 

44 Yes, sir," cried the woman ; " Nero will 
save her." 

44 What sort of dog ? " asked the big man, 
writing busily in his note-book. 

44 Newfoundland dog, sir ; he can swim 
like a fish and do 'most anything." 

44 Bravo, dog ! " cried the reporter, and 
at that moment the boat's crew, the young 
man who had dived, and the animal in 
question came up the steps from the landing- 
stage. We rushed towards them, but the 
pier-keeper, who was the foremost of them, 
shook his head sadly. 

44 They've got the drag-ropes out," he said, 
and indeed the water was alive with boats. 
The reporter seized him by the arm. " Is that 
the dog ? " he cried. The pier-keeper looked 
surprised. " Yes," he answered, slowly ; 
44 that's the dog, and a good dog too." 

The woman came running forward. " Where 
is she, oh, where is she ? " she wailed. 

44 Now, bear up, bear up," said the reporter, 
and then she saw the dog. 

44 Oh, Nero, where is she ? " she cried, 
44 Why haven't you brought her back, why 
haven't you brought her back ? " 

44 He done his best," said the pier-keeper, 
gruffly. "See here," and he held up two 
dripping little garments. 

The poor mother seized them with an 
eagerness that was terribly pathetic, and her 
husband came staggering forward to her side. 
44 She's dead," he cried ; " dead and drowned. 
Nero, how dare you come back and leave her 

I interfered at this. " You mustn't blame 
the dog," I said ; "he has done nobly. Bear 
your affliction like a man ; be brave ; all that 
can be done has been done." 

The dog, a huge, shaggy black-and-white 
Newfoundland, seemed to know that I was 
speaking for him, for he lifted, a dripping 
paw and laid it on my spotless flannels. 
The owner turned to me. 

44 You're right, sir," he said, the tears 
standing in his eyes. " He has done his 
best, and I should not have blamed him." 

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H He's a noble dog," I said, and there was 
a murmur of approval from the crowd, 
** He's a noble dog, and for the sake of his 
courage^ and to show my sympathy, ill give 
you X l S f° r him/' 

The man seemed to waver for a moment, 
but his wife, laying her hand on the huge 
wet head of the faithful beast, cried out, 
" No, John, no ; don't part with Nero, he's 
— he's all weVe got left now." 

There came another murmur from the 
crowd of sympathy with her, and, most un- 
justly, of anger with myself. " Don't go for 
to rob the pore man of his dog,* J said one 
indignant female, and other voices echoed 
her remark. 

" My friends/' said I, hastily, " I have no 
wish to do so." 

"Well, don't you do it," repeated my 

" I don't intend to do it, On the con- 
trary, I will hand over the ^15 to this poor 
fellow to help him to keep this noble 

"Bravo, sir,' cried the reporter. li We'll 
make a jack-pot of it, and I'll put a quid in 
myself" And, taking off his hat, he threw 
a sovereign into it, and passed it round 
among the crowd, 

The poor woman turned to me and caught 
my hand in hers, "Oh, bless you, sir," she 
sobbed. "Bless you, and you, kind gentle- 

We stayed on 
that pier for hours^ 
and when at last we 
left it, all hopes of 
recovering the body 
being abandoned, 
the woman was still 
tearfully expressing 
her gratitude, for 
which I must say I 
think she had some 
cause. The collec- 
tion, inclusive of my 
donation, amounted 
to over ^30. 

The papers were 
full of the dog's 
courage and devo- 
tion for days to 
come (there was no 
mention, by the 
way, of the young 
maji with the life- 
belt); and I think 
that the basket- 
maker and his wife 

had reason to be thankful to the Press, 
I know of my own knowledge that three 
aunts of mine from London, Liverpool, 
and Exeter sent large donations to "the 
brave Nero and his master," and, as I after- 
wards ascertained, many other people did 
the same. The body of the child was not 
recovered, in spite of the diligent efforts 
of the authorities^ and when I had my last 
interview with the parents before I left the 
place they were still broken-hearted at their 

None the less, they were very grateful to 
me for what I had done, and Nero, the 
popular idol, shared their gratitude, and 
greeted nte with the most embarrassing 
warmth whenever I crossed his path, I twice 
offered to buy the beast, but nothing would 
induce the man to part with it. The wife, 
who had been the most vehement at first in 
rejecting my offer } had altered her opinion, 
and even added her entreaties to my own, 
but it was of no avail I went away, regret- 
fully thinking of the dog ; he was not a 
particularly fine specimen! but there was an 
indescribable air of humorous intelligence 
that attracted me* Most Newfoundlands are 
stolid, almost sullen, in appearance ; but not 
Nero. He would put his head on one side 
when we met and look at me with a 4i pawki- 
ness " that was irresistible. Had he been 
human I feel sure he would have winked. 

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5 A IP l p FKILtlfG SOM&1VHAT B0&SD. 

Original from 



I would have given ^20 for him \ but it 
was no use, and I bade him and his owners 
a sad farewell 

In April of this year I went down to stay 
with a cousin of mine who lives in Dorset- 
shire, about twenty miles from the sea-coast 
He is a landowner and a magistrate, and 
a busy man generally, but he was not at 
home when I arrived. His wife apologized 
for his absence : " Charlie is so sorry that he 
couldn't meet you, but there's been such a 
sad accident in the village, and he's seeing 
about that. He'll be home to dinner." 

" What kind of accident ? " I asked. 

" Oh, it's a most pathetic story. Charlie 
will be very angry with me, I know, for he's 
sure to want to tell you himself, but I really 
cannot wait. A poor man with a travelling 
cart came here yesterday. He left the cart 
in his wife's charge, outside the village, and 
came in to sell baskets and things. While 
he was away the van caught fire — I believe 
a lamp exploded. The woman was gathering 

" How sad, w said I, feeling somewhat bored. 

"Oh, but wait— that's not the dreadful 
part of it," cried the daughter, excitedly. 

" I know, my dear, I know," said her 
mother. "Please let me tell the story my 
own way. The woman was outside — but the 
poor little child was in the van. The fire was 
so terrible that the poor mother couldn't face 
the flames, so she sent their dog to fetch out 
the child. The dog tried several times without 
success, and at last — isn't it awful ? — brought 
out the skeleton of the poor little thing. 
I suppose the burning oil had run over her — 
there was nothing but the skeleton — at least, 
even that was broken up by the flames. It's 
too terrible to think of — but here's Charlie at 

My cousin came bustling in. " Well, 
George," he cried, " sorry to miss you — had 
a busy day — we've been having a terrible 
business here ; a poor basket-maker " 

" I've told George all about it, dear," said 
his wife, benignly. 

My cousin's healthy face grew redder, but 
he nobly crushed his disappointment down. 
"Well," he said, "I've been looking after 
the poor people. The man's almost off his 
head — he was abusing his wife in the most 
frightful language when I came up ; not for 
leaving the child, but — what do you think ? — 
for sending the dog into the fire." 

" Poor man," said my cousin's wife. 

" What sort of a dog is it ?" I asked. 

"A Newfoundland — big black-and-white 
dog. It's not very badly burnt ,? 

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A Newfoundland ! The tide of memory 
carried me away to that dreadful scene on 
the pier two years ago. Were all Newfound- 
land dogs heroic, I wondered, or could this 
be my long-lost, much-regretted Nero ? His 
master was a basket-maker, I remembered; 
yes, it must be he. 

" What is the man like ? " I cried, eagerly. 

" Most respectable-looking man : I was 
most surprised to hear him use such lan- 
guage : he's a smallish fellow with a black 
beard : speaks almost like a gentleman." 

" Do you remember my telling you of the 
dog that dived from the pier?" I said. "I 
am almost certain this must be the same." 

" What a darling dog," cried my cousin's 
daughter. " The dog that tried to save the 
poor, drowning girl ! Oh, yes, I'm sure it 
must be ; there can't be two such dogs." 

" I must go and see the man to-morrow," 
said I. " Where is he to be found ? " 

"I was sending John round to him to- 
night," said my cousin. " We've made a little 
collection for him, and the sooner he has 
the money the better." 

" Tell John to say that I am here, then," I 
said. " He will remember me, if it really is 
the man. It's a most extraordinary coinci- 
dence — though, after all, Bowling, where 
the girl was drowned, is not far from here, 
is it ? " 

" About twenty miles, I should say," replied 
my cousin. " It is rather funny, though. I'll 
tell John — and now we ought to go and 

As we were knocking the balls about after 
dinner my cousin returned to the subject. 

" Most extraordinary how fierce the fire 
must have been," he said, chalking his cue. 
" There wasn't a bit of flesh on the bones — 
they were all charred, of course ; even the 
ligaments were gone." 

"Then how did the skeleton hold to- 
gether ? " said I. 

" It didn't ; the dog must have brought it 
out almost bone by bone. I can't think why 
he isn't more severely burnt. And, by the 
way, don't mention it to my wife, but I 
asked the man if he'd mind my taking a 
photo, of the skeleton ; he didn't object, and 
111 come with you to-morrow and bring my 

On the following morning we started off to 
the village, my cousin discreetly concealing 
his camera until we had turned the corner of 
the drive. We found the unhappy couple 
in the cottage of an old servant of my 
cousin's. They were sitting together in the 
kitchen, and the old woman who owned the 




place was vigorously driving off the curious 
villagers who tried to peep in at her windows. 

I was right. I recognised the man and 
the woman Immediately, and my old friend 
Nero was lying by the fire with bandages 
round his neck. All three greeted me cor- 
dially, and I sat down to converse with them, 
w T hile my cousin assisted his old servant in 
dispersing the idle crowd outside* 

i( This is a dreadful business," I began. 
" How terribly unfortunate you are ! And 
poor Nero couldn't save this child? n 

** No, sir^" said the man, shooting an angry 

The remains of the poor child were laid 
out in a little room upstairs. The skeleton 
was, as far as my unpractised eye could judge, 
almost perfect ; yet every bone was separate 
from its neighbour, and there was, as 
my cousin had said, no trace of any 

u Who arranged these bones?' 1 I asked. 

*' Dr. Rip tfni/' said my cousin; "there's 
going to be an inquest." 

** It's marvellous that the dog should have 
found them," said I. 

" Yes, isn't it ? I believe he brought them 


glance at his wife. " It's a wonder he wasn't 

"He doesn't fear death/' said I, " that I 
am sure of. I didn't know you had another 
child, my poor fellow, I thought the one 
that was drowned " 

" Yes t sir," said the woman, wiping her 
eyes, "This was our last, sir/' 

"Poor things, poor things," said I, and 
silently slipped a coin into the woman's hand. 
Mv cousin entered briskly. 

" Well, how's the dog? " said he, 

"Going on well, sir," said the man, "He's 
come off well, considering all things," and 
again he looked angrily at the woman* 

" Well, let's go upstairs/' said my cousin. 
"No, don't you come, my man : it will only 
distress you." 

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all out. They're very little charred, when 
one considers the violence of the fire, and 
they can none of them have been left in the 
fire long, because it wasn't put out for more 
than an hour, and there wouldn't have been 
anything left of them. Just pull up that 
blind, will you ? I want more light' 1 

My cousin took several photographs, and 
we went home. The inquest was held, and 
the jury refrained from blaming the poor 
woman, I believe, though I didn't see the 
report. The public was very much interested 
in the sad case, and a good deal of practical 
sympathy resulted from the publication of 
the story in the Press, 

About a week later my cousin said to me, 
after breakfast, "Those poor people are 
leaving to day. I must really print those 

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photographs. Very possibly the man would 
be glad to have them/' 

The dark room adjoined my cousin's 
study, and I sat and smoked my after- 
breakfast cigar while my cousin arranged the 
fixing, or whatever it is called, of the photo- 
graphs. Finally he produced them for my 

They had come out very well, especially 
one that had been taken of the skull I was 
examining this when I noticed a mark on 
the top of the head that I did not remember 
seeing when we "viewed the body. T1 

" What's this ? " I said, and pointed out 
the mark to my 

" Maybe a flaw 
in the plate, 37 said 
he, " Here's a 
magnifying - glass ; 
look at it through 
this/ 3 

I looked, and* 
to my utter aston- 
ishmcnt, saw 
clearly marked 
upon the skull the 
figures " 189." I 
handed the glass 
to my cousin in 
silence- He looked, 
started, and then 
turned to me, his 
face absolutely 

"It's a number," 
he said, hoarsely- 

"It is," said L 
" How on earth 
did it get there ? " 

"How?" he 
yelled- "Why, 
we've been done. 
This isn't the skull 
of a child at all ; 
there never was a 
child in that in- 
fernal van. This is some confounded old 
skeleton that's been faked up by that smooth- 
spoken villain," 

" Steady, steady," said I ; " you can't be 

" Sure ! Of course I'm sure, How could 
the number get there on a living child ? 
Answer me that. The rascal, the infernal 
rascal ! I'll see that he gets his deserts ; 
I'll » 

"Stop a bit," said L "Don't be so hasty. 
You may be right — 

"I am right." 

" Very good. But it will be an un- 
pleasant business, You wrote to the paper, 
you know " 

My cousin's jaw dropped " I know I 
did," said he, after a pause. " I know I've 
made an ass of myself Theyll guy the very 
soul out of me for this. But, hang it, man, 
you wouldn't have me hush it up ? " 

" No, no," said I, hastily. " It's not a 
question of hushing up — I only wish you 
not to act upon suspicion." 

The door opened and John appeared. 
" A man to see you, sir," he said. 

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" Who is it ? " said my cousin, angrily, 
" It's the man whose child was killed, 
sir," said John. 

"What's he want?" 
" He wants to see Sir George, sir/* 
« Very good," said I ; " show him in here " ; 
and John departed. 

"Now, look here," said I, hastily, "I 
must see this man alone. Vou must not 
mix yourself up in this business. Don't try 
to be wiser than a coroners jury, my dear 
fellow. 111 settle with the man alone; if 

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i 4 4 


you were here, he knows you're a magistrate 
— he'd say nothing — or if he did, you'd have 
to take it up, and I don't think that's 
desirable — I don't think that's desirable," 

My cousin looked at me doubtfully ; then 
silently nodded his head and went out. In 
another minute John reappeared. 

"The man wants to bring his dog in, sir,* 1 
he said. " Do you wish 'im to do so ? " 

41 Certainly," said I, and John withdrew 
and presently ushered Nero and his master 
into the study. 

Li Good morning/' said I, coldly, "You 
wish to see me, I understand?" 

"Yes, sir," said the man, "I'm going 

Could it he possible that he was trying to 
confess? I determined to help him. 

" So you 1 re giving up business, then ? " I 
He gave me one quick, suspicious glance, 
and then dropped his eyes. "Yes, sir, 31 he 
said. " We're thinking of going to London." 
I rose and, walking quickly to the door, 
locked it and put the key in my pocket, 
"Now," said I, "this house belongs to a 
magistrate, I have discovered your scheme, 
my man, and I tell you candidly, because I 
do not wish to be harsh with you, that your 
only chance is to confess at once," 

"Confess!" he cried, with an admirable 

away to-day , sir, and remembering how fond 
you were of Nero, sir, I thought that you 
might like, sir, to renew voiir u(Ylt, mi\ 
Twenty pounds, sir* I think." 

"Certainly not," I said, gently but firmly, 
repulsing the dog, who laid a friendly paw 
upon my knee. " I am not prepared To pay 
that sum," 

" Well, sir, say ten," 

" Nor ten pounds, nor five, nor one." 

" Well, sir," said the man, after a pause, 
11 will you take him as a gift ? " 

I was simply astounded. "What do you 
mean ? 7 ' I said. 

" You were always fond of the dog, sir, 
and he was fond of you, and I think he'd be 
safer with you, sir — safer and happier." 

I looked at him — obviously something was 
on his mind ; he was shuffling his feet about, 
and never once did he look me in the face. 

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assumption of injured innocence, '* Confess 
what ? What do you mean, sir ? " 

" I have here," I went on, quietly, " a 
photograph of the skull that you pretended 
to be that of your dead child. That photo- 
graph clearly shows that it is not so, Now, I 
give you one minute to make up your mind. 
Hither you will tell me without reserve all 
about it, when I will be as lenient as I can, 
or I ring the bell and give you into custody, ' 
The man hesitated for a moment, then— 
"Sit down, sir," he said, with a smile, 
"and make yourself comfortable, I guess 
the best way will be to make a clean breast 
of it, Dyou want the whole story, sir?" 

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" I do," said I, and then, as a fresh wave 
of suspicion flooded my hitherto unsuspect- 
ing mind, "and don't forget the incident on 
the pier." 

He had the grace to look somewhat 
abashed, but, as I sat down quietly, he 
recovered his assurance and began his 

" That was the first time we tried the job, 
sir," said he. " I knew that Nero could 
swim like a fish, sir ; seen him in the water 
often and often. Well, sir, I don't know 
if you read the papers much, but if so you 
must have noticed that the public never care 
much what a man does in the way of saving 
life, but when there's an animal in it, my 
word, what a fuss they make ! And it's just 
the same in other things, too : if a man's 
starved, bless your heart, they don't care ; 
but if he keeps a dog and feeds it, while he's 
starving — Lord, don't they just come down 
with the ready ! I'd been reading something 
like that in one of the papers, and says I to 
my old woman, * Why shouldn't we starve, 
and fatten Nero up, and let the papers hear 
of it ? * says I. 

" * They wouldn't hear of it,' says she ; 
1 and I don't want to starve.' 

" ' Then it must be life saving,' says I. 

" ' Whose life ? ' says she. 

" Well, that puzzled us for a bit : there's lots 
of lives saved by dogs, you know, and we 
wanted something special. I thought of 
getting our little girl down from London and 
letting Nero save her, but she's got a place 
in the theatre, and the wife wouldn't hear of 
her giving it up. You see, if I'd gone in to 
the water and been saved, I'd have had to 
go deep and be a long time in being saved, 
or the public wouldn't care about it a bit, 
and I thought I might make it a bit too long 
and not be saved after all, which would have 
been a pity, wouldn't it ? " 

I remained silent, and the hardened villain 
went on. 

" At last I hit on the right plan. We'd 
got some of Jennie's clothes along with us, 
and that night, seeing the pier was empty, 
we went on with the perambulator closed. 
I'd bought the perambulator special. The 
fool at the gate spotted nothing. When we 
got to the end I gave Nero the cap and the 
frock, and he took them in his mouth." 

I glanced at the dog, and he put his head 
on one side and looked back at me with his 
tongue out. 

" Nero could dive as well as any duck, and 
I said to him, * Deep, Nero, deep.' " 

The dog heard the words and sprang up 

Vol. xx.— 19. 

Digitized by ^OOQlc 

wildly, but his master calmed him with a 
wave of the hand. 

"Nero jumps off into the water and 
dives, and we start yelling out and you came 
up— and that's all clear and satisfactory, isn't 
it, sir ? " 

" Why did he go on diving ? " I said. . 

" He always did, sir, until I whistled." 

" But you didn't whistle ? " 

" Oh, yes, I did, sir. You didn't notice it 
perhaps, but he did. That's all satisfactory, 
isn't it?" 

I did not commit myself. " Tell me about 
this business," I said, sternly. 

The man frowned. " This was none of my 
doing, sir," he said. " I've only just forgiven 
the missus for sending the poor dog into the 
fire like that." 

" But the skeleton ? " I said, incredulously. 
" You must have been preparing for this 
fraud, for you had the skeleton ready all the 

The man laughed : " Not for this, sir," he 
said. " I got the skeleton right enough, and 
I'll tell you what I meant to do with it. We 
were going back to the old place, sir: I 
judged the people would have just about 
forgotten us, and I was going to drop the 
bones out of a boat near the pier-head, give 
one to Nero, say he'd found it, and let him 
have a try for the rest. The people would 
have remembered all about the sad accident 
then, sir, and I think we might have had a 
second edition of their kindness, even though 
you wouldn't have been there. It was a 
good lay, that first one, sir; ^200 we 
cleared, all in all." 

" Go on," said I, sternly. " Why did you 
burn the van ? " 

" Ah, that was an accident — a real accident, 
sir. We never meant to burn the van. A 
lamp burst, or something, and when my wife 
saw that it was all ablaze, she sent the dog 
in to bring out the bag, and angry I was with 
her for doing it." 

" The bag," said I. " What bag ? " 

"A linen bag, sir, with the bones in it. 
I'd taken all the wire out of the skeleton, 
you see, sir, and the bones were loose. Nero 
brought the bag out all right and burned 
himself a bit in doing it. Then my wife 
thought she might as well make the best of 
a bad job, so she burnt the bag and kicked 
up a row, and when I came back from the 
village I found a crowd there, and learnt that 
I'd lost another child." And he laughed 
outright at this. 

" I see," said I ; "that accounts for all the 

bones being found ? " . 

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" Yes, sir," said he. " My wife thought it 
best to burn them a bit, but I suppose she 
didn't do it enough, and that's how you 
spotted us. I must say it was smart." 

"No," said I; "there was a number on 
the skull." 

He looked genuinely shocked. "A number, 
sir ? You don't say so ! And to think of my 
overlooking a thing like that." 

" Don't blame yourself. It wasn't visible 
to the eye. It came out in the photograph 
for some reason. I cannot tell you why ; 
I'm no photographer." 

" Ah," said he, visibly relieved. " I 
thought I shouldn't have missed it. Won- 
derful process, photography. But I ought 
to have thought of that, too, for I read some- 
where that that's how they discovered the 
writing on the monuments in Egypt." 

"You seem to have read a good deal," 
said I. 

" I have, sir," he replied. " I am a well- 
educated man, though I say it as shouldn't, 
perhaps. And now, sir, you know my 
history : what are you going to do ? " 

" You are going to London ? " I said, after 
a pause. 

" Yes, sir. Must get back to business, sir." 

" Business ? What business ? " 

" Cabinet-maker, sir. Oh, I see, sir : yes, 
we took our summer holiday with the van, 
sir. Comes cheaper." 

" Why did you want me to take the 

He looked embarrassed for a moment ; 
then — 

"Well, sir," said he, " I think you'll agree 
that it wouldn't have been safe to play the 
game again ; - we should have been caught 
for a certainty — well, we have been caught, 
in fact. Now, I can't trust my wife not to 
try it on : that's the worst of women, they 
nsver know when to stop; and she's no 
proper care for the dog, sir, as you can see, 
so I thought I'd leave him with you, 
knowing you to be fond of him." 

" And you never intend to defraud your 
fellow-creatures like this again ? " said I, in 
my most impressive tones. 

" Never, sir. You can see for yourself 
that it wouldn't do." 

"Tell me one thing," I said, as the thought 
struck me. " You've a respectable business 
of your own in London, haven't you ? " 

" Yes, sir — I see what you mean, sir. We 

travel incognito, sir, in the van ; under 
another name, sir. Safer, sir, and more 

" Quite so. What is your real name ? " 

No answer. 

" Well, my man," I said, at last, " promise 
me you'll never do this any more, and I'll 
let you off easily." 

"Yes, sir," said he, eagerly, "and you'll 
take the dog, sir ? " 

Nero looked at me with that irresistible 
grin— I can give it no other name. I was 
tempted — struggled for a moment — and 

" I'll take the dog," I said, weakly. 

" Thank you, sir," said the scoundrel, 
cheerily. " And as my poor, burnt child is 
safely buried now, there's nothing to detain 
me here, is there?" He said it with mean- 
ing, and I understood. 

" No," I said, " I shall not prosecute, but 
I should advise you to clear out quickly." 

" Yes, sir," said he ; " the wife has gone 
already. Now, Nero, here's your master; 
understand, here's your master. Call him, 
sir." I did so, and the man also called at the 
same moment ; the dog walked up to me and 
held out a paw. 

" That's all right, sir," said the man. " May 
I go, sir ? " 

I unlocked the door and saw him depart. 
He left the place that day, and I have never 
seen him again. I had some difficulty in 
explaining to my cousin how the dog came 
into my possession ; however, he was glad to 
know that the man had gone, that no serious 
crime had been committed, and that his 
indiscretion in so zealously advocating the 
scoundrel's cause would never be discovered. 

I'm not going to call the dog Nero any 
longer : he would never have fiddled at the 
burning of Rome, rather would he have 
dashed into the flames and hauled out the 
images of the gods. 

I shall call him Gelert : for, in spite of his 
humorous expression, I do not think he 
realized the full extent of his late master's 
fraud. At least, I am sure that if a child 
had been drowning in that sea, or burning 
in that van, he would have rescued her. Is 
he less heroic because he recovered only 
rags in the one case and bones in the other? 
No, I shall certainly call him Gelert, after 
Llewellyn's (ielert. And have I, or have I 
not, compounded a felony by taking him ? 

by Google 

Original from 

From Behind the Speaker's Chair, 






IT is not generally known that 
an institution which from time to 
time has loomed large and omin- 
ously in Parliamentary debate 
has ceased to exist. Whenever Sir John 
Gorst wanted to make flesh creep in the 
House of Commons he 
was accustomed to allude 
to the Committee of 
Council on Education. 
The mere writing or 
printing of the phrase 
will to the unaccustomed 
ear convey no idea of 
its effect when uttered by 
the Vice-President. It was 
generally evoked when 
any awkward question 
arose in debate or con- 
versation on educational 
matters- The House 
learned to know when 
Sir John was coming to 
iL He leaned his elbow 
a little more heavily on 
the brass-bound box, His countenance was 
softened by a reverential look. His voice 
sank to the sort of whisper you sometimes 
hear in church. Then came the slowly 
accentuated syllables— the Committee of the 
Council on Education. 

Nobody except Sir John knew of whom 
the Committee was composed, what it did, 
or where it sat. That only made its influ- 
ence the greater, the citation of its name the 
more thrilling. Its function in connection 
with National Education was to shut up 
persistent inquirers and ward off incon- 
venient criticism or demand. It is an old 
device, certainly going as far back as the 
days of David Copper field. The Committee 
of Council on Education played the part of 
Jorkins to the Vice-President's Spenlow. 
He would be ready — nay, was anxious— to 
concede anything demanded. But there was 
the Committee of the Council on Education. 
That, he was afraid, would prove inexorable, 
though at the same time he would not 
neglect an opportunity of bringing the matter 
under its notice. 

The Committee of Council on Education 
is dead and buried. It ceased to exist by an 
amendment of the Education Act which, 
frivolous - minded people will recognise, 
appropriately came into operation on the ist 
r >r April. But, as in the case of the grave o£ 

Digitized by GoOQle 


the faithful lovers, "out of his bosom there 
grew a wild briar and out of her bosom a 
rose, 1 ' so from the sepulchre of the Com- 
mittee of Council on Education has grown 
another body with another name, I believe 
it is actually composed of the same persons, 
including the President 
of the Council, the First 
Lord of the Treasury, the 
Chancellor of the Ex- 
chequer, and the principal 
Secretaries of State. Dili- 
gently following the ex- 
ample of its predecessor 
it never meets, nor is it 
ever consulted on matters 
connected with education. 
By the wanton change 
of name the spell woven 
about its predecessor is 
broken, A potent in- 
fluence for good is with- 
drawn from the House 
of Commons. The blow 
personally dealt at Sir 
in the worst sense of the 
Mercifully the Act recog- 
nises the impossibility of the situation. 
Having abolished the Committee of Council 
on Education, it also makes an end of the 
Vice-President. Sir John will retain his title 
and his office through what remains of the 
life of the present Parliament With its 
close a page will be turned over, and the 
House of Commons will know no more the 
Vice-President of the Committee of Council 
on Education. 

John Gorst is 
word stunning, 

THE. J, AY .OP Til*: LAST *>,-l\ 

Original From 

J 48 



ranks of 

This is another withdrawal of 
a prop of the Constitution fol- 
lowing with alarming closeness 
on the ruling out of Ministerial 
the office of Judge- Advocate- 
Sir William Marriott was the 
last incumbent of the office who had a seat 
on the Treasury Bench. It was, as Sir Henry 
Camphell-Bannerman put it at the time, "all 
owing to the exceeding devotion to his public 
duties n that e*ti notion of the connection 
between the Judgc-Advocate-General and the 
House of Commons was precipitated. When 
Mr. Gladstone's Government was formed in 
1892 the office of Judge-AdvoeateGeneral 
was not filled up. After a while inquiries for 
reason of the abstention began to be made, 
and Mr. Campbell-Banner man, then Secretary 
of State for War, was put up to reply. He 
explained how an arrangement had been 
made between the Treasury and the Judge- 
Advocate-General, whereby that official was 
to receive a sure and certain salary of ^500 
a year, with fees for business transacted up 
to the amount of another ^500, 

Early in the year 1892 the imminence of 
a Genera] Election, with a prospect of rout 
of Ministers at the poll, overshadowed the 
House of Commons, No one knew what a 
day might bring forth in the shape of 
announcement of dissolution. Sir W r illiam 
Marriott resolved to make 
hay whilst the sun shone, 
(jetting up early on the 
morning of the 1st of April, 
the opening day of the new 
financial year, he applied to 
the Treasury for his salary 
as Judge -Advocate -General, 
and received a cheque for 
^500, Pocketing this Sir 
William, according to the 
account of the Secretary of 
State for War, proceeded to 
attack the business of his 
office with such energy and 
public spa it that before 
August, when the Govern- 
ment were turned out, he 
had practically appropriated the ^500 pay- 
able as fees for specific services, The conse- 
quence was that when the new Government 
came in they found that, for the rest of the 
financial year, closing on the 31st of March, 
1803, there was no money at the Treasury 
available either as salary or fees for the 
Judge - Advocate ■ General Sir William 
Marriott, lean kine among fat and slothful 
Ministers, had swallowed it all. Accordingly, 


by Google 

no appointment to the office was made. 
Later Sir Francis Jeune undertook without 
additional salary to add the work to his 
duties as President of the Probate, Divorce, 
and Admiralty Division of the High Court 
of Justice. Phis arrangement has been 
found to work so well that it has not been 
disturbed, and there has been a Minister the 
less on the Treasury Bench. 
AriUKN-cr An earlier distinguished Judge- 
withthf Advocate-General was the late 
k' 1 "' Cavendish Ben ti nek. His 
qualifications were negative, see- 
ing that he was neither a judge, an advocate, 
nor a general. But he had voted straight 
ever since he was first returned for Taunton 
in 1865 ; had distinguished himself during 
debates on Irish Land and Church questions 
by howling at Mr. Gladstone ; was a Ben ti nek, 
and must be provided for. 

Sir George Osborne Morgan, who later 
filled the post in a Liberal Administration, 
was much impressed w T ith its importance, 
He would find it difficult to understand 
how things muddle along since there is no 
Judge- Advocate-General in the House of 
Commons. The post certainly has a unique 
distinction, the history of which it would be 
curious to trace. All other of Her Majesty's 
Ministers desiring to have an interview with 
the Sovereign make humble application for 
permission to attend. The 
j udge- Advocate-General has 
the right to claim an audience 
whenever the business of his 
office makes one necessary 
or desirable, 

cud- I ' ookin S through 
Lewes's " Life of 
Goethe," I come 
upon a letter 
written by Thackeray forty- 
five years ago > in which he 
describes a visit to the Grand 
Old Man of Weimar. " His 
eyes,' 7 he writes, " were extra- 
ordinarily dark, piercing, and 
brilliant 1 felt quite afraid 
before them, and recollect 
comparing them to the eyes of the hero of 
a certain romance, called * Melnoth the 
Wanderer,' which used to alarm us bovs 
thirty years ago — eyes of an individual who 
had made a bargain with a certain person, 
and at an extreme old age retained these 
eyes in all their awful splendour." 

Not less a prominent feature in a striking 
countenance were Mr. Gladstone's eyes. 
They were the most deeply luminous, the 
Original from 






most fearfully flashing, I ever saw in a human 
face. Like everyone else who came in 
contact with him, Mr\ I^ecky was much struck 
by the phenomenon. In a notable passage 
written by way of preface to a new edition 
of Iies " Democracy and Liberty" he writes : 
"He had a wonderful eye— a bird-of-prey 
eye — fierce, luminous, and 
restless. 'When he differed 
from you/ a great friend and 
admirer of his once said to 
me, * there were moments 
when he would give you a 
glance as if he would stab 
you to the heart. 1 There 
was something indeed in his 
eye in which more than one 
experienced judge saw dan- 
gerous symptoms of possible 
insanity- Its piercing glance 
added greatly to his eloquence, and was, no 
doubt, one oF the chief elements of that 
strong personal magnetism which he un- 
doubtedly possessed- Its power was, I 
believe, partly due to a rare physical pecu- 
liarity. Boehm, the sculptor, who was one 
of the best observers of the 
human face I have ever 
known, who saw much of Glad- 
stone and carefully studied 
him for a bust, was con- 
vinced of this. He told me 
that he was once present when 
an altercation between him 
and a Scotch professor took 
place, and that the latter 
started up from the table to 
make an angry reply, when 
he suddenly stopped as if 
paralyzed or fascinated by 
the glance of Gladstone ; and 
Boehm noticed that the pupil 
of Gladstone's eye was visibly 
diluting and the eyelid round 
the whole circle of the eye 
drawing back, as may be seen 
in a bird of prey," 

No one knowing Mr. 
1-ecky, with his soft voice, his 
pathetic air of self-eflacement, 
can imagine him saying 
these bitter things. He did 
not speak them, yet there they are, as 
he wrote them in the safe seclusion of 
his study* The picture is not drawn with 
effusively friendly hand But no one Familiar 
with Mr. Gladstone in his many moods can 
deny that there is much truth in the flaming 

by L^OOgle 

1 never but twice heard Mr, Gladstone 
speak with personal resentment of men 
opposed to him in the political arena. 1 
forget the name of one of the subjects of 
his acrimony, though I have a clear impres- 
sion that he was a person of no importance. 
The other is a noisy, frothy, self- seeking 
member of the present House 
of Commons. It was ai 
Dalmeny, during one of the 
Midlothian campaigns, when 
the telegraph brought news 
of this gentleman's re-elec- 
tion, Mr. Gladstone offered 
an observation in those deep 
chest notes that marked his 
W>?^ * access of righteous indigna- 
"^C^y tion. Then I saw in his eye 
a flashing fve. that flashing light which Mr. 

Boehm describes as having 

shrivelled up the Scotch pruFessor. The 

expression was by no means uncommon 

whether he were on his legs in the House of 

Commons or seated at a dinner- table. But 

the awful lighting-up of his countenance 

invariably accompanied not reflections upon 

individuals but comment upon 

some outrage of the high 

principles, honour and obedi 

ence to which were infused in 

his blood. 

In an extra-Parlia- 
nientary speech 
delivered in the 
course of the 
Session Lord Salisbury took 
the opportunity of extolling 
the Primrose league as an 
instrument of national good. 
In a gleam of hope he almost 
saw in it a means of amend 
ing and counteracting the 
inherent weaknesses of the 
British Constitution. This is 
interesting and amusing to 
those who remember the birth 
of the association, I recall 
a little dinner given at No, 2, 
Con naught Place, in the early 
eighties- The company num- 
bered four, including the host, 
Sir Henry Wolff, and Sir 
John Gorst. Of the Fourth Party > Sir 
Henry Wolff was the only one who had 
associated himself in the promotion of the 
new Guild. To Lord Randolph Churchill 
it was an amusing enterprise. I well 
remember how he chaffed Sir Henry, being 

backed up by Sir John Gorst. 
r .'nginarfTom 









At that time neither Sir Henry Wolff nor 
Algernon Borthwick — now Lord Glenesk— 
had any idea to what proportions the grain 
of mustard seed they planted would grow. 
As for Ix>rd Salisbury, who to-day almost 
drops into poetry in his adulation, it is more 
than probable that at this time he had never 
heard of it. If he had, " the image of the 
housemaid " would certainly have crossed his 
mind with an application disastrous to the 
new departure. At the dinner speaking 
Sir Henry Wolff laughingly defended himself 
from the attacks made by his colleagues 
deprecating serious intention in the matter. 
He and they lived long enough to see the 
Primrose League with all its — perhaps 
because of its -fantastic flummery grow into 
a political power, crystallizing the conservatism 
latent in the mind of woman, and cunningly 
directing her influence upon a certain order 
of male mind. If political services are to be 
crowned with meet reward, Lord Salisbury 
ought to make a duke of the man who 
invented the Primrose League. 

There is a member of the Irish 
maiden party in the present House of 
speeches. Commons who distinguished him- 
self by delivering his maiden 
speech on the day he was sworn in and took 
his seat. It is a sound rule for the guidance 
of new members of commoner mould to sit 
silent through at least their first Session, 
profiting by opportunity of quietly study- 
ing the scene of future triumphs. It must 
be admitted that, in the case of three of the 
most illustrious commoners of the century, 
the rule was not observed. Pitt made his 
maiden speech within a month of taking his 
seat. Disraeli did not longer wait before 
he gave the House of Commons a taste of 
his quality. The first Parliament of Queen 
Victoria was opened on the 20th of Novem- 

Digitized by C^OOQ IC 

ber, 1837. On the 7th day of the following 
month the ringleted member for Maidstone, 
who came in at the General Election, 
delivered the historic speech with its angry, 
prophetic last words, " The time will come 
when you shall hear me." 

By the way, Mr. Gladstone once told me — 
what I have never heard or seen stated on 
other authority — that he heard this speech. 
He distinctly remembered the bench on 
which Disraeli sat and the appearance of the 
new member. He did not say anything of 
the impression made upon him by the speech. 

About Mr. Gladstone's maiden speech 
there long loomed misleading obscurity. It 
is generally believed, and Mr. Gladstone, 
supernaturally accurate on facts and figures, 
grew into acceptance of the belief, that he 
first addressed the House on the 3rd of June, 
i ^33j on the subject of the emancipation of 
the West Indian slaves. The mistake doubt- 
less arises from the circumstance that that 
particular speech involved a personal matter. 
Mr. Gladstone's father was a slave-owner in 
Demerara. His name was mentioned in 
debate, and his son defended him. In the 
compendious " Life of Gladstone," edited by 
Sir Wemyss Reid, Mr. Hurst conclusively 
shows, quoting passages from "The Mirror 
of Parliament," that Mr. Gladstone's maiden 
speech was delivered on the 21st of February, 
'833, the subject-matter being a petition 
from Liverpool complaining of the bribery 
and corruption that marked the election of 
the previous year. 

The circumstances attending 
Gladstone's Disraeli's first speech are 
and pitt's. matters of history. Mr. Glad- 
stone's passed over apparently 
without exciting any attention. According 
to one of the reports, "the member for 
Newark spoke under the Gallery, and was 
almost entirely inaudible in the Press 
Gallery." The Times, whose columns were 
through more than sixty subsequent years 
to overflow with verbatim reports of his 
speeches, dismissed the young member with 
the line, " Mr. Gladstone made a few re- 
marks, which were not audible in the Gallery." 

Pitt, the youngest of the three, stands 
alone in the success that attended his maiden 
speech. Burke, who heard it, said, looking 
at young Pitt, " It is not a chip of the old 
block — it is the old block itself." Lord North 
protested it was the best maiden speech he 
had ever heard made by a young man. 
" Young Pitt will be one of the first men 
in Parliament," said a friend who met Fox 
immediately after the young member for 
Original from 





Appleby had resumed his seat " He is so 
already," said Fox, possibly with prophetic 
instinct of the prolonged struggle with which 
he would presently be engaged with the new- 

There is an accidental point of 
resemblance and a striking dif- 
ference in the outset of the 
careers of Pitt and Gladstone. 
Both entered the House of Commons as 
representatives of pocket boroughs — Pitt as 
member for Appleby, on the nomination of 
Sir James Lowther ; Gladstone as member 
for Newark by favour of the Duke of New- 
castle. Very early 
in their career 
each was offered 
office. Mr. Glad- 
stone promptly 
accepted the 
Junior Lordship 
of the Treasury, 
the customary 
bottom step of the 
ladder, when in 
1834 it was offered 
him by Sir Robert 
Peel. Rocking- 
ham, forming a 
Ministry in suc- 
cession to Lord 
North, tempted 
Pitt with some- 
thing better than 
that The young 
prize aside, with 
was " resolved not to take a subordinate 
office. " The next offer made to him, he 
being in his twenty-third year, was the 
Chancellorship of the Exchequer, with the 
Leadership of the House of Commons. 

The nearest parallel in modern times to 
this leap of a private member into Ministerial 
office of Cabinet rank is Mr. Asquith's 
appointment to the Home Office. But Mr. 
Asquith was in his fortieth year, and had 
been six years in the House of Commons 
before he made this great stride. 

A member of the French 
Chamber of Deputies who visited 
the House of Commons the 
other day tells me some interest- 
ing things about the Chamber. 
British Constitution is, among other 
things, buttressed about by the engage- 
ment of a rat-catcher, who cares for Buck- 
ingham Palace. His salary is duly set 
forth in the Civil Service Estimates, is 
year after year solemnly voted by the House 

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man coolly thrust the 
the intimation that he 






of Commons, and is included in the 
gigantic amounts set forth in the Appro- 
priation Bill. In France there is also a rat- 
catcher in the employment and pay of the 
State. But he is directly engaged in the 
service of the Chamber of Deputies. His 
salary is a trifle over ^25 a year, which 
compares with that drawn quarterly by the 
rat-catcher of Buckingham Palace. 

Another of the resources of civilization 
the Chamber of Deputies benefits by which 
finds no parallel in the House of Commons 
is an umbrella-mender. French legislators 
finding their umbrellas worn out or damaged 

by accident may 
take them to a 
particular room in 
the Chamber and 
have them re- 
paired gratuitous- 
ly. This institu- 
tion dates back to 
the time of Louis 
Philippe. That 
amiable and ap- 
prehensive mon- 
arch never, even 
in settled summer 
weather, went out 
without an um- 
brella. He set the 
fashion of discard- 
ing walking-sticks 
• and holding fast 

to the umbrella. This naturally led to 
increased mortality in the umbrella-stand, 
and members of Parliament, properly think- 
ing that observance of a loyal custom should 
not incur personal charges, brought in the 
umbrella-mender and paid him out of taxes. 

In the administration of affairs he is now 
the last link left with the ancien regime. 
Kings have gone. Emperors and Empresses 
have been chassis. The Tuileries is a ruin; 
the umbrella-mender, a legacy of the time of 
Louis Philippe, remains. 

The annual vote for the current 

"pur f O^T 

expenses of the French Chamber 
cJxmuvu is about ^3oo,ooo. This com- 

CHAMBER. ^^ wUh chafges Qn the Ciyil 

Service Estimates on account of the House 
of Commons of ,£150,000. Probably on 
the principle which forbids a bird to foul 
its own nest the votes on account of the 
Chamber are usually passed without discus- 
sion. But my French friend remembers a 
variation from the rule. A keen - scented 
deputy noticed that not only was the charge 
for scented soap advancing by leaps and 




bounds, but that the bill for eau-de-Cologne 
had in a particular Session beaten the record. 
The influence of temporizing friends induced 
this French Peter Ry lands to refrain from 
opening the question of scented soap. But 
he was firm about eau-de-Cologne. He 
moved an amendment reducing the amount 
of the vote by thirty centimes. That was not 
much ; but the moral rebuke was effective. 
The expendi- 
ture on eau-de- 
Cologne, a few 
years ago reck- 
lessly rising, 
forthwith stop- 
ped. It is now 
overdo a year, 
but sturdy Re- 

not regard 
amount as 

Printing costs 
the French 

Chamber about apt to * 

j£so t ooo a year. 

The Library, a favourite lounge, spends 
nearly ^£\ooo a year on new books, It was 
upon a recent occasion stated in the Chamber, 
without contradiction, that the money was 
chiefly expended on works of fiction. 

In his " Recollections/' Sir 
Algernon West writes : " During 
Sir Ceorge TrevelyatVs first visit 
to the Secretary's Lodge in 
Phoenix Park f he went to the 
window and pushed aside the curtain, and 
under its folds lay the blood-stained coat of 
poor Frederick Cavendish, which had never 
been removed from the room inLo which his 
body was first brought after the murder." 

This is a story which with slight variations 
clings to the Viceregal Lodge, and will 
doubtless last as long as its walls stand. 
When I was there during the reign of Lord 
Houghton I heard it with a difference. The 
blood-stained coat had been found by Lady 
Trevelyan under the sofa on which the body 
of the newly-arrived Chief Secretary was laid 
when he was carried in from the slaughter- 
place immediately fronting the Viceregal 
Lodge. That is a detail that does not dis- 
turb the grimness of the story, which repre- 
sents the wife of the successor to the 
murdered Chief Secretary suddenly coming 
upon a terrible reminder of the crime. 

An opportunity offered itself shortly after 
my return from Ireland for askmg Sir George 
Trevelyan whether there was any truth in 

the legend. He positively assured me there 
was none. All the same> it will never die + 

In debate in the House of 

out ? " 





by ^C 


"does YOUR ^ i ■ ■ 

-A „ Commons nothing is more 

mother ^ . ■ it ? - . 

. effective than a happy retort 

./,, made by a speaker who has been 

interrupted by what is designed 
as a harmful interjection. Mr. 
Goschen is a dangerous man to meddle with 

in that direc- 
tion. Mr, Cham- 
berlain is, at 
such crises, 
ready. He, in 
fact, is not be- 
yond suspicion 
of occasionally 
laying himself 
open to inter- 
ruption, assured 
of the readiness 
of his own 
rapier not only 
to ward off the 
attack but to 
pink the assailant One of the best, perhaps 
the best, known successes of this kind out of 
doors is credited to the present Duke of Leeds. 
When contesting Brixton, which constituency 
he represented in the House of Commons 
for some years, a man in the crowd, struck 
by his boyish face and bearing, called out, 
11 Does your mother know youVe out ?" 

" Ves," Lord Carmarthen quickly replied ; 
"and soon after eight o'clock on Monday 
night (polling day) she'll know I'm in." 

'Phis retort was calculated to be worth 
hundreds of votes to the young lord, 

A retort of graver humour by 
frank Sir Frank Lock wood is less well 
lockwoo ix known. It flashed forth a year 
or two before his death, at a 
semi-private dinner of the Sheffield Press 
Clubj whose hospitality I shared with the then 
Solicitor-General arid Mr- Stuart Wortle>\ 
Responding to the toast of his health, 
Lockwood, referring to the period covering 
several years when he had presided over 
the local Criminal Court, said : "I hope that 
during the ten years I was connected with 
this city I gave satisfaction." Here the 
company broke into a loud cheer. u I was 
about to add," continued the ex- Recorder, in 
gravest tones, M satisfaction to those gentle- 
men who came before me in my judicial 
capacity. Till I heard that sudden spon- 
taneous burst of applause I did not realize 
there were so many present here to-night." 
Original from 


Deeds of Daring and Devotion in the IVar. 

By Alfred T. Story. 

T is, of course, a truism that 
there is nothing like difficulty 
and danger for bringing out 
men's true characters and for 
developing all the grit and go 
there is in them. It may be 
added that when the crisis is a national one 
the splendour of the heroism brought into 
prominence is all the more striking. We 
cannot go back to any campaign in British 
history without coming across, not only acts 
of the most signal daring, oftentimes of 
almost transcendent courage, but, what is 
still finer, deeds of devotion so unselfish that 
they touch the deepest chords of the human 
heart. Our military biography is full of 
such, and one can hardly read of them with- 
out being thrilled as by a line of heroic 
verse. And how many tingling heart-throbs 
of the kind have we not received during the 
present war? To read the daily papers is 
like being at a school of heroism ; and no 
doubt the deeds of daring and doing per- 
formed on the battlefield for the Motherland 
did much to stimulate the splendid rush of 
volunteers to the Flag when the Queen 
called, that sent thousands of the best of 
Britain's sons to emulate the traditional 
hardihood and the traditional devotion. 

Whilst the New South Wales Lancers were 
at Aldershot some of them practised picking 
up and carrying off a disabled comrade. It 
was a happy thought to do so, and one can 
only hope, if the chance should come in 
their way, that they will be able to turn their 
dexterity to good account, and so win the 
soldier's highest honour, the V.G 

The decoration of the Victoria Cross, as 
most people are aware, was instituted as a 
reward to members of the British naval and 
military services for the performance, in 
presence of the enemy, of some signal act of 
valour or devotion to their country. Non- 
military persons who are serving as volun- 
teers against the enemy are also eligible. 
But there is one condition attached to the 
distinction which is not perhaps generally 
known : it is that the act for which the Cross 
is given must be a voluntary one. 

There has probably never been a war since 
the institution of the V.C. when so many 
have gone to the front with the resolution to 
win the coveted distinction, if it by any 
means lay in their path, as in the present 
one. Nor can we wonder when both the 
leading commanders— that is, Lord Roberts 
and Sir Redvers Buller, besides several of the 
generals of divisions — are V.C. heroes. Such 
examples fire men with a lofty spirit of emula- 
tion, and who can doubt but the many self- 
sacrificing deeds of which we read were in part 
stimulated by what their generals had done ? 
Even where there has been no question of 
the Victoria Cross, the V.C. spirit has 
proved contagious; so much so that one 
could almost wish all those who have shown 
a spirit of sturdy devotion or brave self- 
forgetfulness might come in for some sort of 

Take, for instance, the act of the post- 
mistress of Lady Grey, the chief town of the 
native reserve of the Free State border, who, 
when the Boers proclaimed the district 
Orange Free State territory, and sent rebels 
to post up President Steyn's proclamation at 
Lady Grey, which they did, quietly removed 
the objectionable document and put up in 
its place Sir Alfred Milner's proclamation, 
telling the rebels at the same time that that 
was the proclamation for them. It has been 
stated, in order to adorn the story, that the 
lady pulled down the Boer flag, which had 
been hoisted, and ran up the Union Jack 
in its place ; but I have it on the best 
authority that there was no flag, either 
British or Boer, in the question. Even 
without the bravado of the flag, however, the 
deed was one of conspicuous courage. 

Such deeds as this, as well as some that 
are still less, as it were, before the public eye, 
like that of Private Rogers, of the ist 
Battalion Manchester Regiment, who wrapped 
his wounded captain in his great-coat and lay 
beside him all night to keep him warm, are a 
little liable to be forgotten, which is a pity. 
This act of the man Rogers I have heard 
doubts thrown upon. But permission has 
been given me to print an extract from a 




letter of Captain D. R. Paton, the officer 
referred to, which puts the matter beyond 

Writing to his father, the famous painter, 
Sir Noel Paton, from 
the temporary hospital 
at Ladysmith, October 
24th, he says : " A pri- 
vate of mine and a ser- 
geant of the Gordons 
dressed my wound 
roughly to stop the 
bleeding, and my 
Tommy and I lay 
down to wait for the 
ambulance. . . , I 
prefer to say no more 
of that night in the 
field — it is best for- 
gotten ; and you may 
be sure that I never 
welcomed the daylight 
as I did on Sunday 
morning. I knew that 
help would come with 
the light . . . I am 
glad my Tommy— a 
private in my own 
company— stayed with 

me ; for he wrapped me in his great-coat, 
and lay with his arms round me all night to 
try and keep me warm. If he hadn't, I am 
afraid I should have pegged out, for it was 
bitterly cold, and I couldn't move at all" 

One would have 



liked to give the 
portrait of this 
hero, but it has not 
been possible to 
obtain a photo 
graph of him. 

Another deed 
which deserves to 
stand beside the 
above is that of 
Captain- Surgeon 
Buntine, of the 
Natal Carbineers, 
Dr. Buntine is an 
Australian, and 
was in practice at Pietermarit/burg when the 
war broke out He at once set out for the 
front and joined the Carbineers, He was, 
however, almost immediately sent for to help 
the Royal Army Medical Corps at head- 
quarters at 1-ady smith. The Carbineers were 
given the honourable and onerous duty of 
patrolling the Free State border, and Dr. 
Buntine was put with them when they had a 

Digitized by L^OOglC 

Frvm a I*h >l - ■'. ,,. .<;.. ,■■!>.., .t, Durban. 

brush with the enemy at Bester's, just under 
the Drakcnsberg, lowering 10, oooft. above 
them. The Carbineers w T ere compelled to 
retire, and a trooper who was wounded had 
to be left where he 
fell, Dr. Buntine, 
however, rode back, 
accompanied by his 
trooper servant, Duke, 
placed the severely 
wounded man on his 
own horse, and then, 
holding the stirrup- 
leather of his servant's 
horse, ran all the way 
into camp, A non- 
commissioned officer 
of the same corps, 
Sergeant J. Todd, 
greatly distinguished 
himself by saving the 
life of a wounded 
officer at Chieveley, 
under a hot fire. 

Many such plucky 
acts have been re- 
corded during the war. 
At the Battle of Reit- 
fontein, for instance, a 
Carbineer named Cleaver was shot through 
the body while the men were retiring from 
an exposed position, whereupon Lieutenant 
Compton ran back and offered to carry him 
under cover. Cleaver asked to be left where 
he was, as he was in great pain. Compton 
went away, but returned and again offered to 
Lake him to the ambulance. The man still 
declined, and the lieutenant retired under 
cover, being 
at the time 
much e x - 
posed. The 
man was 
shortly after- 
wards taken 
up by the 

Still more 
worthy of 
note is the 
act of Lieu- 
tenant the 
Hon, Ralph 
roy, second son of Viscount Harberton, of 
the 5th Dragoon Guards, who, on the 5th of 
November, during a brush with the enemy 
near I.adysrmth, went to the assistance of a 





wounded txoojjtT, re- 
gardless of the bullets 
that were viciously 
"spitting " through 
the air, and carried 
him out of the fire 
zone. A similar act 
of heroism was per- 
formed at Ladysmith 
by an officer of the 
same regiment, Lieu- 
tenant J, Norwood, 
who also at great peril 
to himself saved the 
life of a trooper. 

It speaks volumes 
for the " initiative '* of 
the irregular troops to 
find so many acts of 
devotion and daring 
being performed by 
members of those con- 
tingents. Sir Red vers 
Buller, it will be re- 
membered, looks 
upon initiative as the 
sou] of the V\G. 
Perhaps the fact that 
the irregular troops 
a:e less drilled, less of the nature of machines, 
and possibly in consequence, like the Boers, 
more mobile, has its advantage in allowing 
their members to act more from personal 

From a Photo, by Winduw J: lirovt. 

For his gallantry Turpi 
rank of sergeant and 
tinned in despatches. 

Another trooper of 
corps, namely, A. W, 

come in. Such acts 
have been so numer- 
ous that one cannot 
hope to give more 
than a brief selection 
of them. 

The story of Trooper 
Clifford Turpin,of the 
Imperial Light Horse, 
at the Battle of Elands- 
laagte is an instance 
in point His colonel 
was shot in the body, 
and Turpin caught 
him in his arms and 
was carrying him away 
to a place of safety 
when the poor officer 
received a bullet 
through the brain 
while in the trooper's 
arms. He put the 
body d own and 
rushed on in the field, 
and he and one of 
the Gordon High- 
landers were the first 
to get into the Boer 
laager and take it 
n was promoted to the 
his name was men- 
one of the irregular 
Evans, of the Natal 

From a. rtato. fry Hepburn tt Jiana, frrahamMttuen. 

Prom a Photo. b§ Brpn^, Rithmomd. 

volition. Certain it is that the various corps Mounted Rifles, did an act for which he 

of irregular and volunteer troops have greatly recommended for the V.C He fell into 

excelled in acts where personal initiative has ambush with a patrol The patrol 







retiring when the horse of a fellow-trooper, 
named Golding, who was on foot, broke 
away. Evans dashed after Golding's mount 
and brought it back in spite of a heavy fire 
from the enemy. Trooper Evans, who is 
nineteen years of age, had not long left St. 
George's School, Harpenden, 

Not less worthy of note is the brave deed 
of Trooper Martin, of the Natal Mounted 
Police, who conducted Lieutenant Hooper, 
of the 5th lancers, through the 
Boer lines to Ladysmith, and 
returned with a message hem 
Sir George White for General 
Wolffe - Murray. Martin was 
recommended for promotion 
by General Murray, and was 
immediately afterwards raised 
to the rank of sergeant. 
Martin, w T ho is a son of Captain 
Martin, of the Royal Artillery, 
Woolwich, only completed his 
twentieth year last July. 

As the instances of bravery 
here given are more particularly 
concerned with those whose 
effort was rather to save life 
than to kill — to include the latter would 
necessitate a reproduction of nearly the whole 
list of those who have gone to South Africa 
— one need only mention the name of 
Bugler Shurlock, who, metaphorically, took 
the scalps of three Boers at Elandslaagtc, in 
order to point out how, under the stress of 
the Empire's danger, the very hoys and 
women became heroic. Hence it should 
not be forgotten that it was to a boy bugler's 
presence of mind in blowing a resonant 
" Charge \ " in reply to the sounds of " Cease 
fire ! "given by the Boer trumpeters in order 
to mislead, that the victory of Elandslaagte 
was largely due. The incident was referred 
to by Mr. Pearse, of the Daiiy News* "The 
Devons"(he wrote) "had gained the crest 
on its steepest side, and the Gordons, with 
the Manchester^ and the Light Horse, were 
sweeping over its nearer ridge, when, to 
our astonishment, we heard the * Cease 
fire ! ' and i Retire ! J sounded by buglers. 
It was difficult to account for them, 
but not so now, when we know that 
the Boers had learned our buglecalls. In 
obedience to that sound the Gordons were 
beginning to fall baek> when their boy- bugler, 
saying, ' Retire be hanged ! ' rushed forward 
and blew a hasty charge* Whereupon ranks 
closed up and the victory of Elandslaagte 
was won-" 

And, speaking of boy-emulators of their 

Digitized by Google 


commanders for the V,C, need one do more 
than refer to the splendid act of the little 
bugler, Dunne, of the ist Royal Dublin 
Fusiliers, who so distinguished himself in the 
fighting line of the Battle of Tugela River; 
refusing, after having his right arm disabled 
by a shot, to go to the rear, hut, taking his 
bugle in his left hand, continued to advance 
with his company, sounding the charge and 
heartening the men the while? His wound 
necessitated his being brought 
home ; but he was from the 
first eager to be allowed to go 
again to the front, The bugle 
presented to him by the Queen 
in place of the one he lost will 
doubtless long remain in his 
family and be treasured almost 
as a patent of nobility. The 
bugle is made of copper, with 
silver mountings, and bears 
the inscription : * 4 Presented to 
John Francis Dunne, First 
Battalion Royal Dublin Fusi- 
liers, by Queen Victoria, to 
replace the bugle lost by him 
on the field of battle at 
Colenso, 15th December, 1899, when he was 

A good many other youngsters yes, and 
women too — besides Bugler Dunne— whose 
photograph should be in alt the schools — 
deserve me mo rials in commemoration of 
their courage and devotion, Take the little 
heroes of Marking Mafeking which hence- 
forth in British annals will stand as a 
synonym for all that is "game" — of whom 
it was written on the forty-eighth day of the 
siege that many of those helping in the 
defence were tender women and boys, some 
of the latter being nu:re children. u One 
boy named Chiddy," the account says, "at 
the summoning of the garrison to arms by 
church-bell on Sunday morning, arrived 
bringing a rifle and a bandolier. He 
occupies a man's loophole, and carefully 
records the number of shells passing over 
another fort," The writer goes on to say 
that in one house, while the breastwork was 
being built, three ladies remained during the 
Monday's shelling with the utmost pluck, 
"One played the National Anthem while 
shells were whistling overhead. The men 
outside heard the music and cheered in 
response." Throughout the siege, too, the 
calm bravery of the nuns was excelled by 

And while one is writing of Mafeking, can 
one omit to make reference to the first pf i\$ 
Original from' 



heroes, who not only inspired and sustained 
all by his courage and resourcefulness, but 
when he saw any of the little ones who 
seemed to want comforting, would take it up 
in his arms, and show that he had some- 
thing of the gentleness of a woman, in 
addition to his splendid soldierly qualities ; 
reminding one of the lines in Woids worth's 
" Character of the Happy Warrior " : — 

who, though thus endued as with a sense 
And faculty for storm and turbulence, 
Is yet a soul whose master bias leans 
To homefelt pleasures and to gentle scenes. 

May such traits always adorn the British 
warrior, as they so supremely adorn the 
chiefest of them all, Lord Roberts. It is 
that character, and the kindly acts it leads 
him to do, that has so endeared him to 
all who have come under his command. 
Said a private, writing to his people the 
other day: "He" (Lord Roberts) "passed 
our picket lines to see Macdonald yester- 
day. I stood to attention as smart as I 
could. * All right, my man/ said he; 'sit 
down and go on smoking.' That's the 
general for you. He is a soldier, every 
inch of him. I would die for such as he." 
Another man, describing General Lyttelton, 
writes : " There isn't a bit of regimental 
or staff starch about him. He is just like 

Admiration of this sort is soon developed 
into something akin to adoration by acts 
like that which distinguished the Battle of 
Driefontein. On that day I^ord Roberts, 
when riding over the battlefield, came across 
a wounded soldier, and, dismounting, gave 
him a drink from his own water-bottle. It 
was remarked at the time, by one who de- 
scribed the act, that it was one of those 
numberless little deeds of kindness and 
consideration, so characteristic of the veteran 
commander, which "serve to bind the Com- 
mander- ia-Chief still more closely to the 
rank and file, who literally worship him." 

What will not men do for those in whom 
they have confidence and whom they have 
learned to love ? Some striking instances of 
the kind have cropped up from time to time 
during the war. There was the instance of 
the two Lancashire men at Spion Kop, both 
of whom were wounded, but one not so 
badly but be was able to walk. Said the 
other to him : " Tha'd better get doon th' 
hill while th'art able, Jem." " Nay, awm 
not a-gooing ta leave thee," he answered, 
and whilst he spoke he received a shot which 
proved his death-warrant. 

Another splendid instance of self-forget- 

Digiiiz&d by dOOQ Ic 

fulness is recorded by Mr. Treves, the cele- 
brated surgeon. After one of the Tugela 
battles a doctor offered a drink to. a badly- 
wounded soldier. " Give a drink to my pal 
first," said he ; " he is worse hit than me." 
Yet (adds Mr. Treves) while the pal did 
well and recovered, the self-denying hero 
died of his hurt. 

But all the heroism of the war pales before 
the efforts first to " fight "and then to save 
the guns at the Battle of Colenso. The 
engagement, as will he renumbered, took 
place on the 13th of December, 1899. 
Colonel Long was ordered to go into posi- 
tion with his guos, coveted by the Sixth 
Brigade. General Boiler's account of what 
took place is a& follows : — * » . 

" I had personally explained to him where I 
wished him to come into' action, and with the 
naval guns only, as the position was not 
within effective range for his field guns. 
Instead of this, he advanced with his batteries 
so fast that he left both his infantry escort 
and his oxen-drawn naval guns behind, and 
came into action under Fort Wylie, a com- 
manding, trebly entrenched hill, at a range of 
1,200yds., and I believe within 300yds. of 
the enemy's rifle-pits. The men fought 
their guns like heroes and silenced Fort 
Wylie, but the issue could never have been 
in doubt, and gradually they were all shot." 

Mr. Bennet Burleigh, writing of the Battle 
of Colenso, thus describes this thrilling inci- 
dent : " There were scarcely any men left, 
and next to no ammunition. After that an 
order was given to abandon the guns, which 
for over one hour had fought in the face of 
the fiercest fusillade a battery ever endured. 
Yet even then all was not over, for four men 
persisted in serving two guns and remaining 
beside their cannon. One of either party 
carried the shell ; the others laid and fired 
their beloved 15-pounders. But two men 
were left. They continued the unequal 
battle. They exhausted the ordinary ammu- 
nition, and finally drew upon and fired the 
emergency rounds of case, their last shot. 
Then they stood to 'attention' beside the 
gun, and an instant later fell pierced through 
and through by Boer bullets. These, I say, 
by the light of all my experience of war— 
these gunners of ours are men who deserve 
monuments over their graves, and even 
Victoria Crosses in their coffins." 

Then followed the fight to recover the lost 
guns — a fight which will long be remembered 
as one of the glory spots in British military 
annals. We are, perhaps, too near the event 
to-day, and too much distracted by the many 




Prom a Photo, by Charles Knight, AidertkoL 

incidents and anxieties of the war, to fully 
grasp and appreciate those acts of splendid 
heroism. Notwithstanding the numberless 
deeds of daring produced by the war, how- 
ever, these stand out, as it were, and will 
ever so stand, like a piece of antique sculp- 
ture adorning the frieze of Time's temple of 
valour. The story of the heroism of poor 
Roberts and his comrades can never, perhaps, 
be told too often. It is thus described in 
the London Gazette: "The detachments 

serving the guns 
of the 14th and 
66th Batteries, 
Royal Field Ar- 
tillery, had all 
been either 
killed, wounded, 
or driven from 
their guns by 
infantry fire at 
close range, and 
the guns were 
deserted. About 
500yds. , behind 
the guns was a 
donga, in which 
some of the few 
horses and 
drivers left alive 
were sheltered. 
The intervening 
space was swept with shell and rifle fire. 
Captain Congreve, of the Rifle Brigade, who 
was in the donga, assisted to hook a team 
into a limber, went out, and assisted to 
limber up a gun, Beiny wounded, he took 

Digitized by Google 

ProYtt a Pkott), bv J. //airto* Pii/mouih. 

Pram a Photo, bg Werner A Sou* Dublin. 

shelter; but seeing Lieutenant Roberts fall, 
badly wounded, he went out again and 
brought him in. Captain Congreve was shot 
through the leg, through the toe of his boot, 
grazed on the elbow and the shoulder^ and 
his horse shot in three places." 

Corporal Nurse and six drivers of the 66th 
Battery also took part in this rush into the 
jaws of death* Nurse, along with Congreve 
and Roberts, was recommended for the V.C., 
and the drivers — some of whose portraits 
are given — for the medal for distinguished 
conduct in the field. 

Captain R L, Reed, of the 7th Battery 

Pk^o by Charts* Knight. Aldtr*htf r 





From a i'hulu. by vkurleM Kniphi, Aldershot. 

Royal Field Artillery, with thirteen nan- 
commissioned officers and men, then brought 
up three teams from his battery to see if he 
could save the guns. Captain Reed and five 
of his men were wounded, one man was killed, 
and thirteen out of the twenty-one horses 
were killed, so that the 
gallant little party was 
driven back. Captain 
Reed was recommended 
for the V.Cj and all the 
others, including Trum- 
peter Ayles, for distin- 
guished conduct medals. 

Captain Schofield also 
took a prominent part in 
these heroic attempts at 
rescue, but was not, like 
the other officers, recom- 
mended for the V.C 
General Bailer says he 
"differentiated in his re- 
commendations, because 
he thought that a re com* 
mendation for the Victoria 
Cross required proof of 
initiative — something 
more, in fact, than mere 
obedience to orders ; and for this reason he 
did not recommend Captain Schofield, who 
ivas acting under orders, though his conduct 
was most gallant" 

One of these days a poet, feeling the full 
splendour of these deeds, will give us a poem 
on the " Fight for the Guns at Colenso." 

Another plucky feat which the future 
historian of the war will need 
to take full account of was 
of an aquatic nature, and 
strangely reminds one of a 
similar act performed by 
Cliveat the very outset of his 
military career. It occurred 
during General Buller's 
second attempt to relieve 
Udysmith. When on that 
occasion Lord Dundonald 
reached Potgieter's Drift he 
found the Boer pont, or raft, 
moored at the farther bank 
of the swollen stream, and 
it was very desirable to get 
possession of it In view 
of possible Boers on the north side, the 
attempt was likely to prove extremely dan- 
gerous ; but Lieutenant Carlisle, of the South 
African Light Horse, volunteered to swim 
the river, and six others offered to do the 
same, These were Sergeant Turner, Cor- 

Digitized by GOOQ I C 

CORPORAL (SOW sergeant) UfttiLDu 
From a rtmtt*. bg Charia Knight, Akletdwt 

porals Barkley and Cox, and Troopers 
Colling wood, Howell, and Godden— all, like 
the lieutenant, of F Squadron. Five of the 
men stripped, Lieutenant Carlisle and another 
simply throwing off their boots. Unfortu- 
nately, in mid -stream Barkley was seized 
with cramp, and would 
have been drowned but 
for Howell pluckily going 
to his rescue and bringing 
him safely into the donga, 
where the remainder of 
the party had already 
arrived, Barkley was 
quickly restored and the 
return journey com- 
menced. The hawsers of 
the pont jammed and the 
machine hung in mid- 
stream, while Boer bullets 
began to whistle about the 
naked figures, A party of 
the enemy had discovered 
what they were at and 
opened a hot fire upon 
them at a distance of about 
450yds. It was necessary 
once more to plunge into 
the water, and the enterprise would have failed 
but for the pluck of Corporal Cox, who again 
mounted the pont and got the hawser free. 
All this time Lieutenant Carlisle continued 
to keep hold of the gunwale, declining to 
leave Barkley, who he feared might have 
another attack of cramp ; and, although 
bullets never ceased to play about them, 
one grazing the lieutenant's 
arm and another splintering 
the gunwale between his 
hands, they marvellously es- 
caped, and were safely drawn 
with the pont into the welcome 
shelter of the south bank 

Of the many incidental acts 
of devotion worthy of note, 
one may mention that of 
Sergeant Sheridan, who, in 
the retiring movement on the 
last-named occasion, seeing 
Private Dowling wounded, 
carried him for half a mile, 
until they were both out of 
danger. At the same time 
Lance-Corporal Farrall went back under a 
murderous fire, and, making two successive 
trips, brought out two wounded men, whose 
wounds he dressed before moving them. 

Similarly, in General French's advance to 
the relief of Kimberley, as well as later in 




the wonderful sweeping advance first to 
llloemfontein and then upon Pretoria, we 
read of numberless acts of individual devo- 
tion and daring. On the way from Ritt 
River to the M odder a patrol skirmish took 
place, in which Corporal Felting, of the New 
South Wales Lancers, was badly hurt. Cor- 
poral (now Sergeant) Gould at once went to 
his assistance, and succeeded 
in bringing him out of danger 
under a heavy fire. Trooper 
Firmin likewise distinguished 
himself in the same action, 
courageously carrying out a 
wounded officer of the 16th 
lancers. Nor should we 
forget the act of Lieutenant 
De Crespigny, who in a re- 
connaissance from General 
French's column, on January 
19th, rode back, under a 
hot fire and rescued a dis- 
mounted trooper* 

One would like to mention 
other deeds of daring and 
devotion did space permit — 
deeds like that of Sergeant Parker, V.C., and 
Gunner Lodge, VXl. t whose coolness and 
bravery in working the rescued guns at 
Koorn Spruit saved that disastrous affair 
from becoming a catastrophe. J)eeds like 
that of Lieutenant Mat bias, on the 6th of 
January, when he saved a 
Hotchkiss from falling into 
the hands of the Boers, or 
—finer still -like that of 
the sixteen Manchester 
who held an advanced 
post of Caesars Camp the 
whole of that critical day, 
and left, as "the price of 
Empire," fourteen of their 
number dead in their 
sangar. Nor should one 
forget Sergeant Eoseley, 
who, fighting his gun on 
that eventful day, and 
having an arm and a leg 
taken off, bade his men 
" Roll me away and go 
on with the firing," 

From a I'twto. by Charlct Kriitfht> Aldtrtkui. 


From a Photo, by Symtmd* ^ Co.. Pmtamaulh. 

The war has shown us every description of 
hero, from die man who, like Private Hinton, 
simply knew how to do his duty and die at 
his post as hospital attendant, or like Chaplain 
Robertson, who fearlessly exposed himself on 
the field of battle in giving such comfort 
as he could to wounded or dying men, to 
men like Baden -Powell, who seemed to be 
the captain of every re- 
source, but always captain 
and commandant of himself, 
ready if need be to die in 
defence of the post and 
people under his charge, but 
knowing a deeper and safer 
wisdom in living and going 
" softly, softly/' so as to 
" ca tehee the monkey,' 1 or 
—what was as good in this 
case — Eloff! 

Many do and will con- 
tinue to regret the war; but 
everyone must be pleased to 
think, not only how the 
nation rose to the emer- 
gency, but that it was the 
means of bringing to the front not only so 
many fine talents, but so many fine qualities 
to boot. It shows how secure so far the 
national feeling and the national tradition 
lie at the basis of the common life. The 
two things may be summed up in the 
words "home" and "su- 
premacy " wherever the 
flag flies. The thought 
was well exemplified in 
the dream of a soldier in 
the hospital at Colesberg. 
He was feverish and rest- 
less, but towards midnight 
he fell into a gentle sleep ; 
then — the story is told by 
a German doctor — he 
began to sing in a soft, 
low voice. And what 
think you he sang? 
" Home, Sweet Home,' 1 
and " Rule Britannia. 1 ' 
That dreaming soldier 
was a personification of 

by Google 

Original from 


By Robert Barr. 

HE swift elevator wafted Miss 
Edith Remy to the fifteenth 
floor of the Skylight Building 
in Chicago, as if she had been 
in reality the angel she looked, 
fur she was an extremely pretty 
girl, with an air of innocence and sweetness, 
And she was exceedingly well-dressed too, 
which counts for much in this world. 

Leaving the elevator, she walked along the 
corridor, remembering the injunction, " Fifth 
door to the left, miss, JJ and paused before the 
big ground-glass panel on which were painted 
the words, ** Law offices of Edward Dunton/ 1 
Here she rapped, somewhat timidly, showing 
that she knew little of the entrance to 
business rooms in the heart of Chicago* 
However, the door was flung airily open by 
an impudent looking, undersized urchin of 
twelve or thereabout, who stared at her open- 
mouthed, Apparently this sort of visitor 
was new to him. 

" I wish to see Mr, Dunton," said the girl. 

"Yesm This way'm, 1*11 ask him. 
He's awful busy.' 1 

" Very well, I'll call again. 31 

"Oh, no'm + You jest set down. He's 
finishiV a big case, but he'll be ready'n a 
minute," and with that the lad hurriedly 
knocked at an inner door, disappeared, re- 
turned, and continued : — 

M He'll see ye, mum, in about three shakes 

of .... in about three minutes'rn." 
VoL **— si. 

by Google 

"Thank you." The gtrl turned to the 
one window in the narrow room and looked 
out into a court— a deep, square well, 
the sides of which were studded with un- 
countable windows, The law offices of 
Edward Dunton were evidently not the most 
expensive in this huge building, despite his 
rush of work. The small boy was perched 
on a tall, three - legged stool, which was 
surmounted by a round revolving-seat. On 
this, with a deft, energetic movement of 
the foot that evidently came from long 
practice, the youth imparted to himself a 
swift circular motion, which he was in the 
habit of bringing to a sudden conclusion by 
grasping two legs of this Eiffel tower whose 
red-headed apex he formed. When perform- 
ing his dizzy evolutions he thrust forward his 
legs and leaned back to balance himself, his 
brilliant head looking like a whirling brand 
of flame. These acrobatic feats not having 
the desired effect of attracting the young 
lady's attention, the lad came to an abrupt 
standstill and opened the conversation. 

" My name's Billy'm/ 1 

"Oh, is it?" replied the girl, turning 
partially round, 

"Yes'm. And some day I'm goin* t J be 
Mr. Dun ton's partner He's the best lawyer 
in Chicago'm." 

"Yes?" The girl smiled so sweetly that 
Hilly, unused to the blandishments of the 
fair, flushed almost the colour of his hair, 
Original from 




and whirled like a catherine-wheel to recover 
his equanimity. When he came to a teeth- 
chattering stop the girl said, anxiously : — 

"Aren't you afraid you will hurt yourself?" 

" Oh, no'm. Used t' fall off at first. Just 
like learning a bicycle. You try it ! " And 
Billy sprang off on the floor, earnestly 
desirous of giving pleasure to his visitor. 

" No, thank you," said the girl, with a 
charming little laugh that further captivated 
the susceptible Billy, filling him with emula- 
tion and a yearning to show off. 

" Why, it's dead easy'm. Look a' this." 

Billy, spread out like a swimming frog, 
gave himself terrific impetus, flopped over on 
his back in transit, and finally stood on his 
head, spreading his inverted, seemingly 
centipede, legs horizontally, until the effect 
resembled a gigantic dissipated umbrella; 
then, as the motion slowed, he flung himself 
recklessly into the air, described an arc, 
and came down on his feet, staggering, but 
with a proud flourish of the hand, a gesture 
palpably borrowed from the circus. 

" Dear me ! " said the amazed girl, " I 
never saw anything like that before." 

"Mr. Dunton can't do that'm. He kin 
whirl, but he can't stand on his head an' it 
a-going." Billy hopped up on the stool to 
illustrate practically the limits of the lawyer's 
expertness. A stricken bell gave one sharp 
clang in the other room. Billy precipitated 
himself from his perch, reached the door by 
some blind instinct, went in, came out, 
secured a long, fat envelope from a pigeon- 
hole, delivered this breathlessly to his master, 
and came out again. 

" Mr. Dunton says I ought t' go an' show 
at a dime museum ; thinks I'd make more 
money than a lawyer, but I'm a-goin' to be 
his partner. He says that's all right. 'Tain't 
many boys gets such chances, mum." 

" You are very lucky." 

Again the bell sounded. Billy sprang to 
answer it like a competitor in a race. 
Emerging, he flung the door wide : " Mr. 
Dunton'll see you'm," closed it, and Edith 
Remy found herself in the lawyer's office. 

Standing by a desk on which were 
heaped various documents, every pigeon-hole 
crammed, stood a young man with a black 
moustache and a firm, finely-moulded, clean- 
shaven chin. His face wore a care-begone 
look, the final expression of an overworked 
man at high pressure. 

"I am sorry to have kept you waiting, 
madam," he said, politely ; " will you be 
seated ? What can I do for you, madam ?" 

The girl hesitated, but did not sit down. 

by Google 

" I — I was told you wanted a typewriter, 
and I came to apply for the situation." 

The tired mask evaporated from the 
young man's face, his eyes twinkled, and the 
corners of his mouth twitched. He had 
some difficulty in controlling his voice as he 
said : — 

" Who said I wanted a typewriter ? " 

" I called in at the offices of Brown and 
Ripley on the first floor, thinking I might get 
a situation there. They told me your type- 
writer had left, and that you would probably 
want another." 

The young man began to laugh, but 
checked himself when he saw displeasure 
plainly visible in the girl's face. 

"Please sit down," he urged; "and ex- 
cuse me for laughing, but really this is very 
funny . . ." 

" I see nothing funny in my asking for a 
situation. If there is none vacant, then 
there is no more to be said, and I will bid 
you good morning, apologizing for interrupt- 
ing the work of one who is busy." 

" No, no ; don't go," cried Dunton, eagerly. 
" Do let me explain. Of course, your asking 
me for the position of typewriter — there is 
nothing funny about that, certainly, as you 
say. It is my own situation that is funny. 
I get some work now and then from Brown 
and Ripley, but that is really all I have to 
do, and that isn't much." 

" Then I think it very unkind of Brown 
and Ripley to send me up here on a fool's 
errand." Tears of vexation came into the 
girl's fine eyes, melting them into a tender, 
pathetic beauty which appealed to all the 
chivalry in the young man's nature. 

" No, no," he said, hastily, " they are not 
to blame ; they didn't mean any unkindness, 
I assure you. No one is to blame but me, 
and I don't know that I am. Please take 
that chair for a few moments, and I will 
explain, for I don't want you to go away with 
a wrong impression against anyone." 

Edith, seeing him very much in earnest, 
sat down, and Dunton took the chair by the 
cluttered desk. 

" You see, we are both looking for work, so 
there should be no misapprehension between 
us — we should in a way have some sympathy 
for each other. My keeping you waiting, and 
all that, was what might be called pure bluff, 
the same with intent to deceive. The plan 
is as old as the hills, of course . . . Dickens 
had some of his young men do the same 
thing . . . and young men will keep on 
doing the same thing until human nature 
changes. I assure you that if a Chicago 




business man happened to come in here with 
some law work for me to do, he would not 
have the least respect for me if I did not 
keep him waiting. If he thought that his 
job was the only one I had had that day he 
would go away and give it to someone too 
busy to attend to it. I don't growl. It's the 
rules of the game. Here am I fully equipped 
for my profession. I've got the statutes of the 


State of Illinois at my fingers' ends ; I would 
bring knowledge and energy to bear on any 
piece of business intrusted to me, yet I don't 
get the business, except a little of the overflow 
of such firms as Brown and Ripley's and 
other successful people like them, who 
know I do the work well. 

" Now, about typewriting. 1 ought to 
have a typewriter. That's another curious 
thing : people in Chicago have no respect 
for a pen -written letter ; they regard it 
merely as an indication that you can't 
afford a stenographer, and so they've no 
use for you. I'm tired of writing letters 
with my own hand and apologizing that 
my typewriter is away or ill, or some- 
thing of that sort. I 
believes it + I've bluffed 
on this matter for some 
will be discovered sooner or later. That's 
why they sent you up here, and that's their 
first step in finding me out. They've ten 
typewriters down there, and they can't 

feel that no one 
Brown and Ripley 
time, but the fraud 

by Oc 


understand a man getting along without 


"Then why don't you engage me? I have 

a type-writing machine of my own, so you 

wouldn't need to purchase one- I should 

be satisfied with a very small salary," 

Edward Dunton looked at her for a few 

moments, with perplexity on his brow. 

11 1 have really nothing much for you to 

do, except an 
occasional letter. 
Still, the very fact 
that the occasional 
letter was type- 
written might 
bring in additional 
business, I've 
thought of buying 
a machine on the 
instalment plan, 
and doing the 
typewriting my- 
self, but I've been 
afraid Fd lose it 
on the twenty- 
seventh payment, 
or something of 
that sort. What 
salary were you 
looking for ? " 

" Oh, I don't 
know. About 
half the usua, rate, 
or less," 

"Yes, but 
how much? 

Put it in dollars and cents," 

II Well* thirty-five or fortv dollars a week." 

il Is that too much ? " 

" Too much ! Why, where have you been 
working? I don't suppose there is a steno- 
grapher in town gets anything like that. I 
see any amount of advertisements in the 
papers — liners — offering services at ten dollars 
a week, and even five. Sometimes they pro- 
pose to work for nothing, merely to get into 
an office. How many words a minute can 
you do in shorthand ? " The girl blushed 
and looked at the floor for a few moments 
without answering. 

" I am afraid I am very impracticable. 1 
know little of shorthand, but am trying to 
learn. I am not even very expert at the 
typewriter yet." 

" Where was your last situation ? if 

II I never had a situation. That is why I 
knew so little of the salaries paid." 

" Now, you won't mind my speaking 
Original from 



plainly, will you ? There isn't the remotest 
chance of your getting anything to do in 
Chicago, in that line, until you have the 
business literally and figuratively at your 
fingers 1 ends. I suppose you have a father 
or mother to support, or both, and have 
doubtless been used to — to —easier times. 
It does you great credit this resolving to 
earn something, and by-and-by you will suc- 
ceed, but you must be fully equipped first." 

" I have no father or mother ; I have no 
one to look after but myself, and I thought I 
might be able to e^rn what money I needed. 
I have a little tnon^y, so I should not want a 
salary for a while." 

" You don't belong to Chicago, do you ? n 


'* Where are you staying ? ?l 

" At the Grand Pacific.' 1 

" Good heavens ! Paying four or five or 
six dollars a day ! " 

"My father used to stay there when he 
came to Chicago, and I was w f kh him on 
several occasions. I didn't know where else 
to go." 

(i Well, you see, circumstances have 
changed, and you must change with them. 
It's hard, but inevitable, and 
I assure you not uncommon. 
Take myself, for instance. 
Up to the time I was twenty 
1 thought I was going to 
succ,ed to a fortune, but I 
came into a bankruptcy in- 
stead. Have you any woman 
friend in town ?" 

"No. At least none thrtt 
I should care to go to." 

U I understand the feeling. 
Well, now, let me advise you. 
I see the line you ought to 
take just as straight as a 
stri ng. You I ea ve t he G ran d 
Pacific at once, and get some 
nice respectable place 
where they will ask you 
less for a week than the 
Grand Pacific will charge 
for a day. 111 send Billy 
with you. He'll know 
the sort of place. That 
boy knows everything ; 
then he can bring your 
machine right up here, 
I won't pay you any 
salary, but then you 
won't need to pay any 
office rent. There is any 
amount of overflow 


typewriting to be done right in this build- 
ing, and as soon as you get accustomed 
to the form of it, and all that, you will 
get a share of the work, and all you make 
you can keep. You will do letters and 
documents for me, and I will teach you 
something of the way they should be done, 
Then, by-and-by, when you have learned 
shorthand, you will be ready for a situation 
anywhere, and I will give you the highest 
recommendation that can be put forth. 
That is always the first question asked an 
applicant: * Where have you been working?* 
How does that plan , , , . what do you 
think of that outline? " 

"The only objection is that too much 
favour is shown to me, I am willing to pay 
my share of the office, I have more than a. 
thousand dollars with me." 

" A thousand dollars ! Gracious ! You're 
rich, Still, I suppose even that sum won't last 
for ever, but by the time it is gone you will 
be better able to earn your own living than 
you are now. So we will consider my 
scheme adopt ed T for you will really be 
favouring me if you typewrite my letters-" 
Billy proved an admirable chaperon, and 
as a guide to Chicago he was 
unequalled. He talked all the 
time, and made no attempt to 
conceal his admiration for the 
new typewriter girl It was a 
tif love at first sight with 
Hilly. In gratitude, Miss Remy 
took him to a ready-made clothing 
establishment and fitted 
him out with a new suit. 
She wished to have him 
measured, hut Billy was 
too impatient. He 
wanted the suit at once. 
He guided her to an im- 
posing emporium, as it 
was called, and there he 
saw a tailless coat, all 
glittering buttons down 
the front, which appealed 
to his youthful fancy. 

u But that's a page's 
uniform, Billy," expostu- 
lated the girl 

"What's a pageW" 
asked Billy, 

11 A boy that opens 
doors and makes him- 
self generally useful." 

"Well, that's what I 
do'm," And Billy was 
so set on the scintillating 

by Google 

Original from 



yellow buttons that they were purchased for 
him. A haircutting establishment sheared 
Billy's long red locks from the semblance of 
a mop to the likeness of a scrubbing-brush, 
and setting his new cap jauntily on one side 
of his head the youth owned the town, and 
his swagger up the street made no secret of 
his possession. 

He strutted in on his master, and that 
amazed individual nearly fell off his chair. 

,( Fo' de Lawd's sake, Williyum, what's 
struck you ? Couldn't you have ^ot a few 
more buttons on if you had sewed them up 
the back? Turn round. Well, well, well, 
well ! Have you joined the fire brigade, or 
merely the militia ? Isn't there a drum or a 
bugle goes with that outfit ? " 

" No, sir. It's what a page uses to open 
doors with." 

The advent of Edith Remy proved most 
propitious for Room 5, Floor 15, of the 
Skylight Building. Young Mr. Ripley, of the 
prosperous firm downstairs, happened in one 
day with some instructions for Dunton, and 
he stared very intently at the new typewriting 
girl. After that it seemed necessary for him 
to come often, each time bringing with him 
increasing business. The company below 
appeared to have awakened suddenly to the 
merits of the young lawyer on the fifteenth 
floor. Besides this, Mr. Ripley, jun., had a 
good deal of outside typewriting which could 
be done as well, if more slowly, in Room 5 
as anywhere else. Often this work required 
minute instructions, which Mr. Ripley gave 
direct to the girl so that there might be no 
mistakes. The girl was eager to do her 
work as it should be done, and paid marked 
attention, whilst Edward Dunton looked un- 
easily across at the pair, but said nothing. 
He found himself wishing Brown and Ripley 
would send someone else up with their 

One morning Miss Remy approached his 
desk with radiant face, and placed an open 
letter before him. He read it in silence, the 
frown deepening on his brow as he did so. 
It was from Brown and Ripley, telling Miss 
Edith Remy that one of their typewriter 
girls was leaving, and they offered the posi- 
tion to Miss Remy, with a salary of ten 
dollars a week. He looked up at her, and 
his expression chilled the enthusiasm in the 
young girl's face. 

" Are you going to accept the situation?" 
he asked, coldly. 

44 Why, no. I hadn't thought of doing 

"I will give you ten dollars a week. I 

have been going to speak about it for some 
days, and I wish I had done so before you 
received this." 

" I do not want any sum per week ; I am 
perfectly satisfied as I am. I hope you don't 
think I showed you the letter for the purpose 
of getting a salary. I merely wanted you to 
know that I am improving. You see, I have 
done a good deal of work for Brown and 
Ripley, and it must have been satisfactory, 
or they would not have made this offer. 
Don't you think so? I thought you would 
be pleased, but, instead of that, you seem 

44 1 am not angry with you, Miss Remy ; but 
now that you do not intend to accept the 
proposal, I may say that I consider this letter 
a breach of etiquette on the part of Brown 
and Ripley. It would never occur to me, 
no matter how prosperous I was, to lure 
away the . . . the assistant of another 

" Don't you think you are unjust to them ? 
You remember how you stood up for them 
when I thought they had played a practical 
joke on me in sending me up here that first 
day. They don't look on me as your 

44 1 did not use the word 'employee.'" 

" It's the right word, nevertheless. But 
what I was going to say was that I do outside 
work, and they very likely think I am merely 
r ; part of the office here." 

44 Perhaps. Still, they might have written 
to me and found out." 

44 Would you have said I was your 
employee ? " 

Edward Dunton looked up at her, a faint 
smile hovering round his lips and a touch of 
appeal in his eyes. Then he deliberately 
placed his hand on hers, which rested on the 

44 1 would say anything that would keep 
you here." 

She withdrew her hand abruptly, a flash of 
anger lighting her countenance, the first he 
had ever seen there. 

44 Sir, you make it impossible for me to 
stay. I shall accept the invitation." 

44 Why ? Because I touched your hand ? " 

44 That, and your tone and your words. 
You take advantage of my dependent posi- 
tion here." 

44 Your position is not and never has been 
dependent. If it were, you have just given 
me proof that it is so no longer. I am sorry 
I gave you offence, and I promise you 
will have no further cause of complaint if 
you will consent to stay here." 

by K: 



■_■ I I '_| 1 1 I u I l l ■_' 




" Very well. I believe you to be a man 
of your word." 

Edward Dunton busied himself at his desk 
for a while in silence, then rose, took his hat, 
and went out, telling Billy as he passed 
through the other room that he would not 
return till after lunch. 

" All right, sir," said the genial Billy ; " I'll 
put up the 4 Back in Five Minutes ' card." 
When this duty was* performed Billy rapped 
at the inner door and entered, with a doleful 
expression on his chubby face. 

" Say, Miss Remy, mum, y'aint a-goin' 
t'leave, are ye'm ? " 

"Ah, Mr. Billy, you've been listening at 
the key-hole. That's how little boys come 
to get their ears boxed." 

" But you aint a-goin* t'go somewhere else, 
mum ? You know, Mr. Dunton thinks a lot 
of you, pretty near*s much's I do'm." 

" You are very much mistaken, Billy." 

" 'Deed I ain't'm. And what makes you 
pretend'm ? He sees ye home every night'm. 
He wouldn't take all that trouble if he " 

" Billy, what are you talking about ? Mr. 
Dunton never saw me home in his life. 
What makes you say such things ? " 

Billy scratched his flaring head in visible 
perplexity. He was getting into deep water. 

" Well, what the 'nation is he doin', then ? 
Soon's you leave every night he cuts down 
by t'other elevator, just like's if the house's 
afire. I watched him from the hall wi ^w, 
and's soon's you're out the front door ne's 
out, after ye. I thought he's tryin' t'ketch 
up'n see ye home." 

" Billy, you are very much mistaken," 
said the girl, earnestly ; " now let me give 
you some advice. You must not watch 
people : you must not listen at key-holes — 
that's very unmanly ; and you mustn't speak 
to anyone of what you've just told me." 

" All right, mum." 

" Because if you do I cannot stay here any 
longer. I think I ought to leave now, but I'll 
stay for your sake, Billy." 

Billy was somewhat overcome. He begged 
her not to tell Mr. Dunton what he had said, 
and when she promised he went back to his 
room and had to whirl many times on the tall 
stool before he recovered his customary 

It was two days after this that young Mr. 
Ripley came up. " I say, Dunton, we've got 
a bit of work that's entirely out of our line, 
but it's from a client we do a great deal of 
business for, and we don't want to offend him 
by refusing. His name is Deidrich Van 
Ness, and he lives in Peoria. He is rich as a 

by Google 

pork-dealer, and although penurious, there's 
evidently money in this if you can carry 
it off. He is guardian of his niece, Norma 
Van Ness, a girl of eighteen, who will 
come into half a million when she's twenty- 
one. Well, a while ago she bolted, and the 
old man has been fussing round quietly 
trying to find her. He hasn't succeeded, 
and now he comes to us. My father has 
written him that it is a case for the 
detectives, but the old man won't listen to 
that. He says the detectives are more fond 
of giving away their cleverness to the news- 
papers, and getting long notices of their 
cuteness, with a two-column cut of them- 
selves, than ot finding anything that is lost, 
and I guess he's about right. He wants this 
done quietly, and above all things he fears it's 
getting into the papers. For this he's willing 
to shell out handsomely." 

" Has he any clue ? " asked Dunton. 

" No. You see, she was going off to visit 
a friend in the southern part of the State. 
She never put in an appearance there, and 
three weeks were passed before her Peoria 
folks knew she had skipped." 

" How much money had she with her ? " 

" He thinks she can't have very much, but 
she had a lot of jewellery that she might have 
turned into money." 

"That ought to be a good-clue. She, of 
course, made for Chicago, and sold her trin- 
kets here. We must have a description of 
them. Then we ought to have her photo- 

" Yes, my father wrote about that, but it 
seems the young woman was clever enough 
to destroy them. They can't find a picture 
of her in the house." 

" There ought not to be much difficulty 
about that. Some Peoria photographer is 
sure to have a negative." 

The girl at the typewriter gasped, then 
went nervously on with her work, spoiling 
white paper. 

" Inquiries about the negative would have 
to be conducted very circumspectly. The 
old man is in terror lest the scandal becomes 
public. That is a great handicap." 

"Yes, and the lapse of time is another. 
She may be in Paris by now." 

" Quite so. Well, here are all the docu- 
ments we have. Will you look them over ? " 

"Yes. I suppose the preliminary step 
would be for me to go to Peoria, and get any 
further particulars there." 

" Perhaps ; still, the old man is coming to 
town to-morrow or next day, and I'll bring 
him up .here to have a talk with you." 

Original from 





him t 
a descripti 

Dun ton 
tiled the 
one by one, made 
some notes, then went down to the offices 
of Brown and Ripley. As soon as he was 
gone Miss Remy tore up the typewritten 
sheets at which she had been working, put 
on her hat, and left the room. 

M My/' cried Billy, hopping down from 
his stool, " you look scared to death'm. 
What's the matter? YouVe white as white." 

"I am not feeling well Tell Mr. Dunton, 
when he comes back, that I've gone home, 
I may not be here to-morrow or next day. 
Tell him I expect to go out into the country 
for a week perhaps/' And before Billy could 
express his sorrow adequately the girl was 

Four days later, when she returned to the 
office, Billy had such news to tell her that he 
forgot to inquire after her health, but perhaps 
that might have been accounted for by the 
fact that she was looking extremely well. 

"Oh, say! Miss Remy, we're going to 
find a girl what's rund away; Gee, isiVt that 
fine? There was an old gent here the day 
after you left'm, and he's a-goin' t' give Mr. 
Dunton five thousand dollars if he finds that 
ere girl," 

" You've been listening at the key-hole 
again, Billy/' 

"No, I didnYm, honour bright. They 
spoke so loud I didn't have to." 

Edward Dunton was either more solicitous 
about her health or more polite than Hilly* 
She told him she had been staying at a quiet 
place on the lake shore, and he advised her 
to go back there for another week at least. 
But finally he admitted that he was most 


by Google 

needful 01 a typewriter girl at that 
moment, and he gave her some des- 
criptions of herself and her jewellery 
to copy in triplicate. 

That evening Mr. Dunton's chances 
of reaching affluence in his profession 
through the patronage 
of Brown and Ripley 
were extinguished. 
As Miss Remy was 
turning up an un- 
frequented street to 
reach her temporary 
home she was sur- 
prised to find young 
Mr. Ripley by her 
side. She was dis- 
quieted by the 
thought that he had 
evidently followed 
her through the 
more crowded 
thoroughfares, and 
had accosted her only when they were alone. 
"Good evening. Miss Remy. A fellow gets 
no sort of chance of speaking with you in that 
office, so I thought I'd just happen along and 
escort you home. Where have you been 
these last few days ? I tell you I was just 
heartbroken when I went up to No, 5 and 
found you weren't there," 

" You mustn't talk to me like that, Mr, 
Ripley," said the girl, coming to a standstill 
and refusing his proffered arm, 

"Why not? When a fellow's clean gone 
on a girl isn't he to be allowed to say so? 
This is a free country, you know/' 

** Because it is a free country, I ask you to 
stand aside and let me pass." 

"Oh, if it comes to that, the side-walk is 
as much mine as yours, you know." 

Both started when a new voice broke into 
the discussion. 

"If it comes to what, Mr. Ripley?" 
Edward Dunton stepped quietly into the 
space between the girl and the man who had 
just disputed her right of way. This action 
had the instantaneous effect of making young 
Mr. Ripley extremely angry. 

u Who asked you to interfere, you miser- 
able whelp of a half-starved lawyer ? " 

" My interference seems to have been 
necessary, when a young lady cannot go un- 
molested to her home/* 

" Young lady ! Oh, I see how it is. This 

is your meeting-place, and I " 

Dun ton's fist broke the sentence, and 
Ripley went down at full length, and remained 

Original from 


1 68 


resulted in the loss of favour of Brown and 

" May I accompany you. Miss Remy ? " 

" I shall be pleased if you do/' 

Next morning Miss Remy found the office 
in the sole possession of Billy, who was That young man is like the other parrot 
quivering with excitement, each particular — he talks too much," 

" Oh, Billy has been telling you ? 

perpendicular red 
hair seeming to 
radiate electricity. 

"Oh, Miss Remy, 
Miss Remy, you 
ought-a been here 
earlier, mum. 
There's been the 
awfullest row. Old 


Ripley was up here, and's gonno put Mr. 
Dun ton in gaol, 'cause he knocked his son 
down last night. Mr + lhmtoivs gone out 
t'get bail. Ripley says he's a-goin' t'ruin 
him, an' if we don't find that girl I guess 
he will." 

To Billy's disappointment the girl went 
through to the other room and sat down at 
her typewriter without making any com- 
ment on his startling intelligence. When 
Edward Dunton came in he made no allusion 
to the exciting visit of the elder Mr. Ripley, 
and went on with his work as if nothing in 
particular had happened. Therefore Miss 
Remy found herself compelled to open con- 
versation on the subject. She took with her 
the two letters she had typewritten, and stood 
by his desk in the same position she had 
occupied on the day he placed his hand on 

"Mr, Dunton," she began, "I under- 
stand that your championship of me has 

by Google 

" Nevertheless, this 
will make a serious 
difference to you in 
your business." 

" Oh, my business 
was never much to 
brag about I shall 
devote myself entirely 
to this Van Ness case. 
I am guaranteed my 
expenses at least." 

"But Mr, Van Ness 
is Brown and Ripleys 
client They won't 
allow him to leave his 
affairs in your hinds." 
w Miss Remy," said 
the young man, with a 
smile, " you would 
make a good lawyer, 
What you suggest is 
very probable ; still, it 
won't much matter. 
If I find the girl I can 
claim the reward, and 
that will set me on my 

" But you cannot 
pursue your investiga- 
tions if your expenses 
are not guaranteed." 
14 That's quite true* 
You seem resolved I shall see the worst side 
of the complication." 

u I don't want you to delude yourself 
Here is my resignation, neatly typewritten 
and correctly worded," 

"Ah, now, that is unkind, Miss Remy. I 
can stand the loss of Brown and Ripley 
without a regret, but if you desert me, well 
* . . I promised not to give expression . ♦ . 
you know you were kind enough to say I was 
a man of my word, and ... I have tried to 

" That proviso held only while I was in 
your employ. When I have resigned you 
may say what you like." 

The young man looked quickly up at her, 
but her face was very demure and her eyes 
were on the desk* She went on without 
glancing at him, handing him the second 

"This you must sign, and send to Mr. 
Van Ness, If you use a reasonable amount 

Original from 




of wisdom in the negotiations you will be 
on your feet^ as you remarked a few mo- 
ments ago." 

Dunton read the letter :■ — 

"Dear Sir, — I beg to inform you that I 
have discovered the whereabouts of your 
niece, and am in a position to produce her 
any time at any place that is convenient for 
you. She did not sell or pawn her jewels, as 
I supposed, but had been saving money for 
more than a year before she left home, and is 
now in possession of nearly a thousand 

" I may add that you are to deal entirely 
with me in this matter. I cannot act with 
Messrs. Brown and Ripley. If they claim to 
have anything to do with the case, then let 
them produce the girl 

** Yours very truly." 

u Of course you are Miss Norma Van 
Ness ? " he said, at last, 


"Why on earth did you run away and 
come into such a turmoil as Chicago? J1 

" Because my uncle wished me to marry 
my cousin, and I have an objection to being 
coerced. I have 
been very un- 
happy for nearly 
two years." 

"But you 
could have 
come to any 
reputable firm 
of lawyers, and 
they would have 
advanced you 
what money you 
needed, and 
would have 
looked after 
your interests 
. * . * glad to 
do k " 

" I did not know that." 
11 How absurdly under the mark was that 
futile description of you which you typed so 

"I thought it extremely flattering. I shall 
take your advice regarding a Chicago lawyer, 
and I offer you five thousand dollars a year to 
look after my interests, although I warn you that 
you may have to wait for the money at first" 
The young man shook his head, ** I shall 
do it for nothing, or not at all," he said. 

It was a blessing that Billy had been cured 
of his propensity for listening at the key-hole, 
for thus the proceedings of these two young 
people will be for ever unknown to the world, 
unless either of themselves cares to tell 

When Miss Van Ness came into the outer 
room and closed the door, having previously 
begged her lover not to aerom[>any her, she 
was perceptibly flushed and flurried, so the 
acute Billy knew at once something important 
had happened. 

''Has he found the girl?" asked Billy, all 

"Yes Billy, he has." 
"And will he get the five thousand 


"Oh, you 
mercenary little 
wretch -he will 
get a great deal 

Then hap- 
pened an event 
which the 
bristly, red- 
haired Billy 
had feared for 
a long time* 
To his horror 
and dismay, 
she impet- 
uously kissed 


Vol. zl-H. 

by Google 

Original from 

Animal Actualities. 


HIS is a tale of friendly attach- 
ment among five animals of 
v^ divers species, with no common 
bond between them beyond isola- 
tion among human creatures and 
confinement on shipboard. 

In the year 1880, when the Rev, F, H. 
Powell was no clergyman, but a midshipman 


aboard at St Helena ; a turkey, and a goose 
—survivors also, orphans, waifs, or what you 
will ; and a monkey, jacko. Jacko was no 
dependent waif, but a passenger of note, on 
his way home at the instance of Mr* Powell 
himself. To these four entered a pig, taken 
on board when the coolies had left ; for 
Hindu coolies and pigs agree ill, and never 


on the ship Bann x that Vessel took voyage 
from the East to the West Indies, carrying 
800 coolte emigrants, The journey accom- 
plished and the coolies landed, the Bann 
took in sugar for Greenock, and at this time 
the lower animals on hoard comprised a 
shi-f-p the last survivor of a family taken 

by Google 

travel in the same ship together, And now, to 
the astonishment of the whole ships company, 
a quaint companionship sprang up between 
these five of such widely di lie ring sorts. 
They were allowed to wander about decks in 
daytime, The turkey, the sheep, the pig, 
and the goose associated readily — possibly 

Original from 




because of a certain farmyard affinity between 
them ; the monkey was longer in gaining 
admittance to the club. He was an exotic 
creature, and there was something near to 
human about him that seemed to mark him 
as not of the pig and turkey "set." But for 

that day they would give themselves an extra 
clean up — all except the pig — and parade the 
decks in procession. But invariably ere long 
the monkey would perceive the advantages 
of riding, and with a sudden spring he would 
mount the pig, seize him by the cars, and go 

■■it if**.. ?«f r 




his own part he took a most extreme fancy 
for the goose ; and before long all were 
happy together, and the club of five 
(1 passengers " made great merriment for the 
officers and crew of the Banth 

Sunday was the great day for the club. On 

off at a gallop, sitting astride the pig's neck. 
The pig, for his part, would tear ofi" at his 
hardest, grunting and protesting, rushing and 
bucking, with the rest of the club toiling 
excitedly in the rear. But none of his 
antics availed to rid him of his jockey, 

by Google 

Original from 





who stuck in his place, chattering and grin- 
ning with joy, and dragging merrily at the 
pig's ears. Hut the pig had a last resource* 
After a fevv frantic rounds of the deck he 
would stop and consider the matter thought- 
fully. Rushing was of no use, bucking and 

with his small and thoughtful eye. Then, 
with a sudden rush, he would dash under that 
crank barely the height of his back — and 
with a terrific shock Jacko would go flying 
and tumbling into space, an outwitted and a 
sorely bruised monkey. And on the instant 

shying were wholly ineffectual There still 
remained scraping. Sagely revolving his pro- 
ject in his mind, the pig would walk slowly in 
the direction of the main pump. He would 
measure the space between crank and deck 

the whole club would gather round to enjoy 
the discomfiture of the cleverest member. 
And so the pig s triumph endured till Jacko, 
after two or three tumbles, learned to jump 
for the crank and sit there. 

by Google 


Original from 

7 he B rass Bottle. 

Ev F. Anstew 
Anther ef " Fife- rw?*i^ etf» t 




more, the momentary dismay 
he had felt on finding himself 
deserted by his unfathom- 
able Jinnee at the very outset 
of the ceremony passed un- 
noticed, as the Prime Warden of the Candle- 
stickmaker5 , Company immediately came to 
his rescue by briefly introducing him to the 
IiOrd Mayor, who, with dignified courtesy, 
had descended to the lowest step of the dais 
to receive him. 

11 Mr, Venlimorc," said the Chief Magis- 
trate, cordially, as he pressed Horace's hand, 
41 you must allow me to say that I consider 
this one of the greatest privileges — if not the 
greatest privilege — that have fallen to my lot 
during a term of office in which I have had 
the honour of welcoming more than the 
usual numlwr oF illustrious visitors/' 

" My Ixjrd Mayor," said Horace, with ab- 
solute sincerity, "you really overwhelm me, 
X — I only wish I could fed that I had done 
anything to deserve 
this — this magnificent 
compliment ! " 

"Ah !" replied the 
Lord Mayor, in a 
paternally rallying 
tone. '* Modest, my 
dear sir, I perceive. 
Like all truly great 
men ! A most admir- 
able trait ! Permit me 
to present you to the 

The Sheriffs ap- 
peared highly de- 
lighted. Horace shook 
hands with both of 
them : indeed, in the 
flurry of the moment 
he very nearly offered 
to do so with the 
Sword and Mace 
hearers a.s well, but 
their hands were, as 
it ha pjK^ned, otherwise 

11 The actual presen- 
tation,'' said the Lord 
Mayor, * [ takes place in 
the Cireat Hall, as you 
are doubtless aware." 

" I — I have been given to understand so T " 
said Horace, with a sinking heart — for he 
had begun to hope that the worst was over. 

4i But before we adjourn/ 1 said his host, 
"you will let me tempt you to partake of 
some slight refreshment — just a snack ? " 

Horace was not hungry, but it occurred to 
him that he mi^ht get through the ceremony 
with more credit after a glass of champagne, 
so he accepted the invitation, and was con- 
ducted to an extemporized buffet at one end 
of the Library, where he fortified himself for 
the impending ordeal with a i\wiiir€ sand- 
wich and a bumper of die driest champagne 
in the Corporation cellars. 

"They talk of abolishing us," said the 
I-ord Mayor, as he took an anchovy on toast ; 
"but I maintain, Mr. Yen li more — I maintain 
that we, with our ancient customs, our time- 
honoured traditions, form a link with the 
past, which a wise statesman will preserve, if 


Unii+I Slates of America, by B^f^'msA <fcO I 




I may employ a somewhat vulgar term, 
untinkered with." 

Horace agreed, remembering a link with a 
far more ancient past with which he devoutly 
wished he had refrained from tinkering. 

"Talking of ancient customs," the Lord 
Mayor continued, with an odd blend of pride 
and apology, " you will shortly have an illustra- 
tion of our antiquated procedure, which may . 
impress you as quaint." 

Horace, feeling absolutely idiotic, mur- 
mured that he felt sure it would do that. 

"Before presenting you for the freedom 
the Prime Warden and five officials of the 
Candlestickmakers* Company will give their 
testimony as compurgators in your favour, 
making oath that you are *a man of good 
name and fame,' and that (you will be 
amused at this, Mr. Ventimore) — that you 4 do 
not desire the freedom of this City whereby 
to defraud the Queen or the City.' Ha, ha ! 
Curious way of putting it, is it not?" 

"Very," said Horace, guiltily, and not a 
little concerned on the officials' account. 

"A mere form!" said the Lord Mayor; 
" but I for one, Mr. Ventimore — I for one 
should be sorry to see these picturesque old 
practices die out. To my mind," he added, 
as he finished a pate de foie gras sandwich, 
" the modern impa- 
tience to sweep away 
all the ancient land- 
marks (whether they be 
superannuated or not) 
is one of the most dis- 
quieting symptoms of 
the age. You won't 
have any more cham- 
pagne? Then I think 
we had better be mak- 
ing our way to the 
Great Hall for the 
Event of the Day." 

"I'm afraid," said 
Horace, with a sudden 
of his incon- 
gruously Orien- 
tal attire, " I'm 
afraid this is 
not quite the 
sort of dress 
for such a cere- 
mony. If I had 
known " 

" Now, don't 
say another 
word!" said 
the Lord 


Mayor. "Your costume is very nice — very 
nice, indeed, and — and most appropriate, I 
am sure. But I see the City Marshal is 
waiting for us to head the procession. Shall 
we lead the way ? " 

The band struck up the March of the 
Priests from " Athalie," and Horace, his head 
in a whirl, walked with his host, followed by 
the City Lands Committee, the Sheriffs, and 
other dignitaries, through the Art Gallery and 
into the Great Hall, where their entrance was 
heralded by a flourish of trumpets. 

The Hall was crowded, and Ventimore 
found himself th^object of a popular demon- 
stration which would have filled him with 
joy and pride if he could only have felt that 
he had done anything whatever to justify it, 
for it was ridiculous to suppose that he had 
rendered himself a public benefactor by 
restoring a convicted Jinnee to freedom and 
society generally. 

His only consolation was that the English 
are a race not given to effusiveness with- 
out very good reason, and that before the 
ceremony was over he would be enabled to 
gather what were the particular services which 
had excited such unbounded enthusiasm. 

Meanwhile he stood there on the crimson- 
draped and flower-bedecked dais, bowing 
repeatedly and trusting 
that he did not look so 
forlornly foolish as he 
felt. A long shaft of 
sunlight struck down 
between the Gothic 
rafters and dappled the 
brown stone walls with 
patches of gold; the 
electric lights in the 
big hooped chandeliers 
showed pale and feeble 
against the subdued 
glow of the stained 
glass; the air was heavy 
with the scent of flowers 
and essences; then 
there was a rustle of 
expectation in the audi- 
ence, and a pause, in 
which it seemed to 
Horace that everybody 
on the dais was almost 
as nervous and at a loss 
what to do next as he 
was himself. He wished 
with all his soul that 
they would hurry the 
ceremony through, any- 
how, and let him go. 


by CjOO^K* 

Original from 



At length the proceedings began by a sort 
of solemn affectation of having merely met 
there for the ordinary business of the day, 
which, to Horace just then, seemed childish 
in the extreme ; it was resolved that " items 
i to 4 on the agenda need not be discussed," 
which brought them to item 5. 

Item 5 was a resolution, read by the Town 
Clerk, that " the freedom of the City should 
be presented to Horace Ventimore, Esq., 
Citizen and Candlestickmaker " (which last 
Horace was not aware of being, but supposed 
vaguely that it had been somehow managed 
while he was at the buffet in the Library), " in 
recognition of his services " — the resolution 
ran, and Horace listened with all his ears — 
"especially in connection with. . . ." It was 
most unfortunate — but at this precise point 
the official was seized with an attack of 
coughing, in which all was lost but the 
conclusion of the sentence, " . • . that have 
justly entitled him to the gratitude and 
admiration of his fellow-countrymen." 

Then the six compurgators came forward 
and vouched for Ventimore's fitness to 
receive the freedom. He had painful doubts 
whether they altogether understood what a 
responsibility they were undertaking— but it 
was too late to warn them, and he could 
only trust that they knew more of their 
business than he did. 

After this the City Chamberlain read him 
an address, to which Horace listened in 
resigned bewilderment. The Chamberlain 
referred to the unanimity and enthusiasm 
with which the resolution had been carried, 
and said that it was his pleasing and honour- 
able duty, as the mouthpiece of that ancient 
City, to address what he described with some 
inadequacy as " a few words " to one by 
adding whose name to their roll of freemen 
the Corporation honoured rather themselves 
than the recipient of their homage. 

It was flattering, but to Horace's ear 
the phrases sounded excessive — almost 
fulsome, though, of course, that depended 
very much on what he had done, which he 
had still to ascertain The orator proceeded 
to read him the " Illustrious List of London's 
Roll of Fame," a recital which made Horace 
shiver with apprehension. For what names 
they were ! What glorious deeds they had 
performed ! How was it possible that he — 
plain Horace Ventimore, a struggling architect 
who had missed his one great chance— could 
have achieved (especially without even being 
aware of it) anything that would not seem 
ludicrously insignificant by comparison ? 

He had a morbid fancy that the marble 


goddesses, or whoever they were, at the base 
of Nelson's monument opposite were regard- 
ing him with stony disdain and indignation ; 
that the statue of Wellington knew him for 
an arrant impostor and averted his head with 
cold contempt ; and that the effigy of Lord 
Mayor Beckford on the right of the dais 
would come to life and denounce him in 
another moment 

" Turning now to your own distinguished 
services," he suddenly heard the City 
Chamberlain resuming, " you are probably 
aware, sir, that it is customary on these 
occasions to mention specifically the par- 
ticular merit which has been deemed worthy 
of civic recognition." 

Horace was greatly relieved to hear it, for 
it struck him as a most sensible and, in his 
own particular case, essential formality. 

" But, on the present occasion, sir," pro- 
ceeded the speaker, " I feel, as all present 
must feel, that it would be unnecessary — 
nay, almost impertinent — were I to weary 
the public ear by a halting recapitulation of 
deeds with which it is already so appre- 
ciatively familiar." At this he was inter- 
rupted by deafening and long-continued 
applause, at the end of which he continued : 
" I have only, therefore, to greet you in the 
name of the Corporation, and to offer you the 
right hand of fellowship as a Freeman, and 
Citizen, and Candlestickmaker of London." 

As he shook hands he presented Horace 
with a copy of the Oath of Allegiance, 
intimating that he was to read it aloud. 
Naturally Ventimore had not the least 
objection to swear to be good and true to 
our Sovereign I^idy Queen Victoria, or to 
be obedient to the Lord Mayor, and warn 
him of any conspiracies against the Queen's 
peace which might chance to come under 
his observation ; so he took the oath cheer- 
fully enough, and hoped that this was really 
the end pf the ceremony. 

However, to his great chagrin and appre- 
hension, the Lord Mayor rose with the 
evident intention of making a speech. He 
said that the conclusion of the City to 
bestow the highest honour in their gift upon 
Mr. Horace Ventimore had been— here 
he hesitated — somewhat hastily arrived at. 
Personally, he would have liked a longer 
time to prepare, to make the display less 
inadequate to, and worthier of, this exceptional 
occasion. He thought that was the general 
feeling. (It evidently was, judging from the 
loud and unanimous cheering.) However, 
for reasons which— for reasons with which 
they were as well acquainted as himself, the 


I 7 fi 



notice had been short. The Corporation 
liad yielded (as they always did, as it would 
always be their pride and pleasure to yield) 
to popular pressure which was practically 
irresistible, and had done the best they 
could in the limited — he might almost say 
the u n pre cede n ted ly limited— period allowed 
them. The proudest leaf in Mr. Ventimore's 
chaplet of laurels to-day was, he w r ould 
venture to assert, the sight of the extra- 
ordinary enthusiasm and assemblage, not 
only in that noble hall, but in the thorough- 
fares of this mighty Metropolis, Under the 
circumstances this was a marvellous tribute 
to the admira- 
tion and affec- 
tion which Mr. 
Venlimore had 
succeeded in 
inspiring in the 
great heart of 
the people, rich 
and poor, high 
and low* He 
would not detain 
his hearers any 
longer ; all 
him to do 
to ask Mr, Yen- 
timore's accept- 
ance of a golden 
casket contain- 
ing the roll of 
freedom, and he felt 
sure that their distil}- 
guished guest, before 
proceeding to inscribe 
his name on the regis- 
ter, would oblige them 
all by some account 
from his own lips of— 
of the events in which 
he had figured so 
prominently and so 

Horace received the 
casket mechanically; there was a universal cry 
of "Speech!" from the audience, to which 
he replied by shaking his head in helpless 
deprecation— but in vain; he found himself 
irresistibly pressed towards the rail in front 
of the dais , and the roar of applause w T hich 
greeted him saved him from all necessity of 
attempting to speak for nearly two minutes. 

During that interval he had time to clear 
his brain and think what he had better do or 
say in his present unenviable dilemma, For 
some time past a suspicion had been growing 


in his mind, until it had now almost swollen 
into certainty. He felt that, before he com- 
promised himself, or allowed his too generous 
entertainers to compromise themselves irre- 
trievably, it was absolutely necessary to 
ascertain his real position, and> to do that, he 
must make some sort of speech. With this 
resolve all his nervousness and embarrass- 
ment and indecision melted away ; he faced 
the assembly coolly and gallantly, convinced 
that his best alternative now lay in perfect 

" My Lord Mayor, my lords, ladies, and 
gentlemen," he began, in a clear voice which 

penetrated to 
the farthest gal- 
lery and com- 
manded instant 
attention. " If 
you expect to 
hear from me 
any description 
of what I've 
done to be re- 
ceived like this, 
Pm afraid you 
will be disap- 
pointed; For 
my own belief 
is that I've done 
nothing what- 

There was a 
general outcry 
of u No, no ! " 
at this, and a 
fervid murmur 
of protest 

*' It's all very 
well to say - No t 
no,' n said Ho^ 
race, " and I am 
extremely grate- 
ful to you all 
for the interrup- 
tion. Still, I can 
only repeat that 
I am absolutely unaware of having ever 
rendered my country or this great City a 
single service deserving of the slightest 
acknowledgment I wish I could feel I had 
— but the simple truth is that, if I have, the 
fact has entirely slipped from my memory/* 

Again there were murmurs ; this time with 
a certain under-current of irritation, and he 
could hear the Lord Mayor behind him 
remarking to the City Chamberlain that this 
was not at all the kind of speech for the 

Original from 





"I know what you're all thinking, " said 
Horace. " You're thinking this is mock 
modesty on my part But it's nothing of the 
sort, /don't know what I've done— but I 
presume you are all better informed. Because 
the Corporation wouldn't have given me that 
very charming casket — you wouldn't all of you 
be here like this — unless you were under a 
strong impression that I'd done some- 
thing to deserve it" At this there was a 
fresh outburst of applause. " Just so," said 
Horace, calmly. "Well, now, will any of 
you be kind enough to tell me, in a few 
words, what you suppose I've done? " 

There was a dead silence, in which every- 
one looked at his or her neighbour and 
smiled feebly. 

"My Lord Mayor," continued Horace, 
" I appeal to you to tell me and this dis- 
tinguished assembly why on earth we're all 

The Lord Mayor rose. "I think it sufficient 
to say," he announced, with dignity, " that the 
Corporation and myself were unanimously 
of opinion that this distinction 
should be awarded — for rea- 
sons which it is unnecessary 
and — hum — ha — invidious to 
enter into here." 

" I am sorry," persisted 
Horace, " but I must press 
your lordship for those 
reasons. I have 
an object .... 
Will the City 
Chamberla i n 
oblige me then ? 

No? Well, 

then, the Town 
Clerk?.... No? 
— it's just as I 
suspected : none 
of you can give 
me your reasons, 
and shall I tell 
you why ? Be- 
cause there aretft 
any .... Now, 
do bear with me 
for a moment. 
I'm quite aware 
this is very em- 
barrassing for all 
of you— but re- 
member that it's 
infinitely more awkward for met I really 
cannot accept the freedom of the City under 
any suspicion of false pretences. It would be 

a poor reward for your hospitality, and base 
Vol xx.- 23. 

Digitized by \j009 Ic 

and unpatriotic into the bargain, to depre- 
ciate the value of so great a distinction by 
permitting it to be conferred unworthily. If, 
after you've heard what I am going to tell 
you, you still insist on my accepting such an 
honour, of course I will not be so ungracious 
as to refuse it. But I really don't feel that it 
would be right to inscribe my name on your 
Roll of Fame without some sort of explana- 
tion. If I did, I might, for anything I know, 
involuntarily be signing the death-warrant of 
the Corporation ! " 

There was a breathless hush upon this ; the 
silence grew so intense that, to borrow a 
slightly involved metaphor from a distin- 
guished friend of the writer's, " you might 
have picked up a pin in it ! " Horace leaned 
sideways against the rail in an easy attitude, 
so as to face the Lord Mayor, as well as a 
portion of his audience. 

" Before I go any farther," he said, " will 
your lordship pardon me if I suggest that it 
might be as well to direct that all reporters 
present should immediately withdraw?" 



The reporters' table was in- 
stantly in a stir of anger, and 
many of the guests expressed 
some dissatisfaction. " We, at least," said the 
Lord Mayor, rising, flushed with annoyance, 
"have no reason to dread publicity. I 
decline to make a hole-and-corner affair of 
this. I shall give no such orders." 

" Very well," said Horace, when the chorus 
of approval had subsided. " My suggestion 


i 7 8 


was made quite as much in the Corporation's 
interests as in mine, I meruly thought that* 
when you all clearly understood how grossly 
you've been deluded, you might prefer to 
have the details kept out of the newspapers 
if possible. But if you particularly want 
them published over the whole world, why, 
of course -" 

An uproar followed here, under cover of 
which the Lord Mayor contrived to give 
orders to have the doors fastened till 
further directions, 

" Don't make this 
more difficult and dis- 
agreeable for me than 
it is already ! " said 
Horace, as soon as he 
could obtain a hearing 
again* u You don't 
suppose that I should 
have come here in 
this Tom -fool's dress, 
imposing myself on 
the hospitality of this 
great City, if I could 
have helped it ! If 
you've been brought 
here under false pre- 
tences, so have I. If 
you've been made to 
look rather foolish, 
what is y$ur situation 
to mine ? The fact is, 
I am the victim of a headstrong 
force which I am utterly unable 
to control . . . ." 

Upon this a fresh uproar arose, 
and prevented him from continu- 
ing for some time, "I only ask 
for fair play and a patient hear- 
ing ■ ?J he pleaded. "(Jive me 
that, and I will undertake to re- 
store you all to good humour 
before I have done," 

They calmed down at this 
appeal, and he was able in pro- 
ceed* *' My case is simply this,' 5 
he said. "A little time ago I hap- 
pened to go to an auction and 
buy a large brass bottle. . , . /' 

For some inexplicable reason 
his last words roused the amli< n< v 
to absolute frenzy ; they would not 
hear anything about the brass 
bottle ; every tirtie he attempted 
to mention it they howled him 
down ; they hissed, they groaned, 
they shook their fists ; the din was 
positively deafening. 

Digitized by Google 

Nor was the demonstration confined to the 
male portion of the assembly. One lady, 
indeed, who is a prominent leader in society, 
but whose name shall not be divulged 
here, was so carried away by her feelings as 
to hurl a heavy cut-glass bottle of smelling 
salts at Horace's offending head. Fortu- 
nately for him, it missed him and only 
caught one of the officials (Horace was not 
in a mood to notice details very accurately, 
but he had a notion that it was the City 
Remembrancer) somewhere 
about the region of the watch- 

" Will you hear nve out ? " 
Ventimore shouted. ** I'm not 
trifling. I haven't told you yet 
what was inside the bottle. 
When I opened it T I found . , ♦ ," 
He ijot no farther— for, as the 
wordy left his lips, he felt him- 
self seized by the collar of his 
robe and lifted off his feet by 
an agency he was powerless 
to resist. 

Up and up he was 
carried, past the 
great chandeliers, 
between the carved 
and gilded rafters, 
pursued by a uni- 
versal shriek of dis- 
may and horror. 
Down below he 



Original from 



could see the throng of pale, upturned faces, 
and hear the wild screams and laughter of 
several ladies of great distinction in violent 
hysterics. And the next moment he was in 
the glass lantern, and the latticed panes gave 
way like tissue paper as he broke through 
into the open air, causing the pigeons on the 
roof to whirr up in a flutter of alarm. 

Of course, he knew that it was the Jinnee 
who was abducting him in this sensational 
manner, and he was rather relieved than 
alarmed by Fakrash's summary proceeding, 
for he seemed, for once, to have hit upon the 
best way out of a situation that was rapidly 
becoming impossible. 



Once outside in the open air the Jinnee 
" towered " like a pheasant shot through the 
head, and Horace closed his eyes with a 
combined swing -switchback - and - Channel - 
passage sensation during a flight which 
apparently continued for hours, although in 
reality it probably did not occupy more than 
a very few seconds. His uneasiness was 
still further increased by his inability to 
guess where he was being taken to — for he 
felt instinctively that they were not travelling 
in the direction of home. 

At last he felt himself set down on some 
hard, firm surface, and ventured to open his 
eyes once more. When he realized where 
he actually was his knees gave way under 
him, and he was seized with a sudden 
giddiness that very nearly made him lose his 
balance. For he found himself standing on 
a sort of narrow ledge or cornice immedi- 
ately under the ball at the top of St Paul's. 

Many feet beneath him spread the dull, 
leaden summit of the dome, its raised ridges 
stretching like huge serpents over the curve, 
beyond which was a glimpse of the green 
roof of the nave and the two west towers, 
with their grey columns and urn -topped 
buttresses and gilded pine-apples, which 
shone ruddily in the sun 

He had an impression of Ludgate Hill 
and Fleet Street as a deep, winding ravine, 
steeped in partial shadow ; of long sierras 
of roofs and chimney-pots, showing their 
sharp outlines above mouse-coloured smoke- 
wreaths ; of the broad, pearl-tinted river, with 
oily ripples and a golden glitter where the 
sunlight touched it ; of the gleaming slope of 
mud under the wharves and warehouses on 
the Surrey side ; of the moored barges and 
steamers lying in black clusters ; of a small 

by V_ 


tug bussing noisily down the river, leaving a 
broadening arrow-head in its wake. 

Cautiously he moved round towards the 
east, where the houses formed a blurred 
mosaic of cream, slate, indigo, and dull reds 
and browns, above which slender rose-flushed 
spires and towers pierced the haze, stained 
in countless places by pillars of black, grey, 
and amber smoke, and lightened by plumes 
and jets of silvery steam, till all blended by 
imperceptible gradations into a sky of 
tenderest gold slashed with translucent blue. 

It was a magnificent view, and none the 
less so because the indistinctness of all 
beyond a limited radius made the huge City 
seem not only mystical, but absolutely 
boundless in extent. But although Venti- 
more was distinctly conscious of all this, he 
was scarcely in a state to appreciate its 
grandeur just then. He was much too con- 
cerned with wondering why Fakrash had 
chosen to plant him up there in so insecure 
a position, and how he was ever to be 
rescued from it, since the Jinnee had 
apparently disappeared. 

He was not far off, however, for presently 
Horace saw him stalk round the narrow cor- 
nice with an air of being perfectly at home 
on it. 

" So there you are ! " said Ventimore ; " I 
thought you'd deserted me again. What 
have you brought me up here for ? " 

" Because I desired to have speech with 
thee in private," replied the Jinnee. 

" We're not likely to be intruded on here, 
certainly," said Horace. " But isn't it rather 
exposed, rather public? If we're seen up 
here, you know, it will cause a decided 

" I have laid a spell on all below that they 
should not raise their eyes. Be seated, there- 
fore, and hear my words." 

Horace lowered himself carefully to a 
sitting position, so that his legs dangled in 
space, and Fakrash took a seat by his side. 
11 0, most indiscreet of mankind ! " he began, 
in an aggrieved tone ; " thou hast been near 
the committal of a great blunder, and doing 
ill to thee and to myself ! " 

" Well, I do like that ! " retorted Horace ; 
"when you let me in for all that freedom of 
the City business, and then sneaked off leav- 
ing me to get out of it the best way I could, 
and only came back just as I was about to 
explain matters, and carried me up through 
the roof by my coat-collar ! Do you consider 
that tactful on your part ? " 

" Thou hadst drunk wine and permitted it 
to creep as far as the place of secrets." 




"Only one ^lass," said Horace; "and 1 
wanted it, I can assure you- I was obliged 
to make a speech to them; and, thanks to 
you, I was in such a hole that I saw nothing 
for it but to tell the truth. f 

" Veracity, as thou wilt learn," answered the 
Jinnee, "is not invariably the Ship of 
Safety. Thou wert about to betray the 
benefactor who procured for thee such 
glory and honour as might well cause 
the gall-bladder of lions to burst with 
envy ! " 

" If any lion with the least sense of 
humour could have witnessed the pro- 
ceedings," said Ventimore, "he might 
have burst with laughter- certainly 
not envy. Good Lord ! *Fak rash," 
he cried, in his indignation, " 1 Yc 
never felt such an absolute ass in 
my whole life ! If 
nothing would 
satisfy you but my 
receiving the free- 
dom of the City, 
you might at Wast 
have contrived 
some decent 
excuse for it ! 
But you left 
out the only 
point there 
was in the 
whole thing 
— and all for 
what ? " 

doth it sig- 
nify why the 
whole popu- 
lace should 
come forth to 
acclaim thee 
and do thee 
honour, so 
long as they 
did so? ,J said 
Fakrash, sul- 
lenly. " For 
the report 
of thy fame would reach Bedeea-el-Jemal." 

"That's just where you're mistaken," said 
Horace. "If you had not been in too 
des]>erate a hurry to make a few inquiries, 
you would have found out that you were 
taking all this trouble for nothing." 

" How sayest thou ?" 

" Well, you would have discovered that the 
Princess is spared all temptation to marry 
beneath her by the fact that she became the 


by Google 

bride of somebody 
else about thirty 
centuries ago. She 
married a mortal, 
one Seyf-el-Muloolc, 
a King's son, and 
they've both been 
dead a consider- 
able time— an- 
other obstacle 
to your plans." 
11 It is a lie," 
declared Fak- 

"]f you will 
take me back to 
Vincent Square 
I shall be happy 
to show you the 
evidence in 
your national 
records," said Horace. 
lk And you may be glad 
io know that your old 
enemy, Mr Jarjarees, 
came to a violent end, 
after a very sporting 
encounter with a 
King's daughter, who 
though proficient in ad- 
vanced magic, unfortu- 
nately perished herself, 
poor lady, in the final 

" 1 had intended tktt to 
accomplish his downfall," 
said Fakrash, 

"1 know," said Horace, 

11 It was most thoughtful of 

you. But I doubt if I 

should have done it half as 

well — and it would have 

probably cost me an eye at 

the very least, It's better as it is." 

"And how long hast thou known 

of these things ? " 

"Only since last night." 
"Since last night? And thou 
didst not unfold them unto me 
till this instant ?" 

" I've had such a busy morning, you see," 
explained Horace, "There's been no time/' 
"Silly -bearded fool that I was to bring this 
misbegotten dog into the august presence of 
the great Lord Mayor himself (on whom be 
peace !)," cried the Jinnee, 

" 1 object to being referred to as a mis- 
begotten dog," said Horace, " but widi the 
rest of your remark I entirely concur. I'm 
Original from 





afraid the Lord Mayor is very far from being 
at peace just now/' He pointed to the steep 
roof of the Guildhall, with its dormers and 
fretted pinnacles, and the slender lantern 
through which he had so lately made his 
inglorious exit. " There's the deuce of a row 


> ^ - 


going on under that lantern just now, Mr. 
Faltrash, you may depend upon that. They've 
locked the doors till they can decide what to 
do next— which will uike them some time. 
And its all your fault! " 

" It was thy doing. Why didst thou dare 
to inform the Lord Mayor that he was 
deceived ? " 

M Why ? Because I thought he ought to 
know, Uecause 1 was bound, particularly 
after my oath of allegiance, to warn him 
of any conspiracy against him. Because 
I was in such a hat. He'll understand all 
that— he won't blame me fur this business. 3 ' 

"It is fortunate," observed the Jinnee, 
"that I flew away with thee before thuu 
couldst pronounce my name," 

"You gave yourself away, 1 ' said Horace. 
"They all saw you, you know. You weren't 
flying so particularly fast. They'll recognise 
you again. If you will carry off a man from 
under the Lord Mayor's very nose, and shoot 
up through the roof like a rocket with him, 
you can't expect to escape some notice. You 
see, you happen to be the only un bottled 
Jinnee in this City." 

Fakrash shifted his seat on the cornice. 
" I have committed no act of disrespect unto 
the Lord Mayor," he said, l( therefore he 

by L^OOgle 

can have no just cause for anger against 

Horace perceived that the jinnee was not 
altogether at ease, and pushed his advantage 

41 My dear, good old 
friend," he said, "you 
don't seem to 
realize yet what 
an awful thing 
you've done. 
For your own 
mistaken pur- 
poses you have 
compelled the 
Chief Magis- 
trate and the 
Corporation of 
the greatest 
City in the 
world to make 
themselves hopelessly 
ridiculous. They'll 
never hear the last of 
this affair. Just look 
at the crowds waiting 
patiently below there. Look at the 
flags, Think ol that gorgeous con- 
veyance of yours standing outside the 
Guildhall. Think of the assembly in- 
side—all the must aristocratic, noble, and dis- 
tinguished personages in the land,' 1 ' continued 
Horace, piling it on as he proceeded; li all 
collected for what? To be made fools of by 
a Jinnee out of a brass bottle ! " 

11 For their own sakes will they preserve 
silence," said Fakrash, with a gleam of un 
wonted shrewdness, 

" Probably they would hush it up if they 
only could," conceded Horace. *' Hut how mn 
they ? What are they to say? What plausible 
explanation can they give? Besides, there's 
the Press : you don't know what the Press is ; 
hut I assure you its power is tremendous- 
it^ simply im[K>ssible to keep anything 
secret from it nowadays. It has eyes and 
ears everywhere and a thousand tongues. 
Five minutes after the doors in that hall are 
unlocked (and they cant keep them locked 
muck longer) the reporters will be handing 
in their special descriptions of you and your 
latest vagaries to their respective journals. 
Within half an hour bills will be carried 
through every quarter of London — bills with 
enormous letters: * Extraordinary Scene at 
the Guildhall/ * Strange End to a Civic 
Function.' * Startling Appearance of an 
Oriental Genie in the City.' 'Abduction of 
a Guest of the Lord Mayor,' ' Intense 
Original from 




Excitement.' ' Full Particulars ! ' And by 
that time the story will have flashed round 
the whole world. Keep silence, indeed ! 
Do you imagine for a moment that the Lord 
Mayor ot anybody else concerned, however 
remotely, will ever forget, or be allowed to 
forget* such an outrageous incident as this ? 
If yon do, believe me, you're mistaken." 

"Truly, it would be a terrible thing to 
incur the wrath of the Lord Mayor," said the 
Jinnee, in troubled accents, 

"Awful!" said Horace, " But you seem 
to have managed it." 

" He weareth round his neck a magic 
jewel, which giveth him dominion over evil 
spirits— is it not so?" 

"You know best," said Horace, 

"It was the splendour of that jewel and 
the majesty of his countenance that rendered 
me afraid to enter his presence, lest he should 
recognise me for what I am and command 
me to obey 
him, for 
verily his 
might is 
greater even 
than Suley- 
man's, and 
his hand 
h e a v i e r 
upon such 
of the Jinn 
as fall into 
his power !" 

"If that's 
so," said 
Horace, " I 
strongly ad- 
vise you to 
find some 
way of put- 
ting things 
straight be- 
fore it's too 
late- — you've 
no time to lose." 

"Thousayest well," 
said Fakrash, spring- 
ing to his feet, and 
turning his face towards 
Cheapside* Horace shuffled 
himself along the ledge in 
a seated position after the 
Jinnee, and, looking down 
between his feet, could just see the tops of 
the thin and rusty trees in the churchyard, 
the black and serried swarms of foreshortened 
people in the street, and the black, scarlet- 

rimmed mouths of chimney-pots on the tiled 
roofs below* 

" There is but one remedy I know," said 
the Jinnee, "and it may be that 1 have lost 
power to perform it Yet will I make the 
endeavour." And, stretching forth his right 
hand toward the east, he muttered some kind 
of command or invocation. 

Horace almost fell off the cornice with 
apprehension of what might follow. Would 
it be a thunderbolt, a plague, some frightful 
convulsion of Nature? He felt sure that 
Fakrash would hesitate at no means, however 
violent, of burying all traces of his blunder in 
oblivion, and had very little hope that, whatever 

by Google 


Original from 



he did, it would prove anything, but some 
worse indiscretion than his previous f»er- 

Happily, none of these extreme measures 
seemed to hare occurred to the Jinnee, 
though what followed was strange and striking 
enough. For presently, as if in obedience to 
the Jinnee's weird gesticulations, a lurid belt 
of fog came rolling up from the direction of 
the Royal Exchange, swallowing up building 
after building in its rapid course ; one by one 
the Guildhall, Bow Church, Cheapside itself, 
and the churchyard disappeared, and Horace, 
turning his head to the left, saw the murky 
tide sweeping on westward, blotting out 
Ludgate Hill, the Strand, Charing Cross, and 
Westminster — till at last he and Fakrash 
were alone above a limitless plain of bitu- 
minous cloud, the only living beings left, as 
it seemed, in a blank and silent universe. 

" Look again ! " said Fakrash, and Horace, 
looking eastward, saw the spire of Bow 
Church rosy once more, and the Guildhall 
standing clear and intact, and the streets and 
house-tops gradually reappearing. Only the 
flags, with their unrestful shiver and play of 
colour, had disappeared, and, with them, the 
waiting crowds and the mounted constables. 
The ordinary traffic of vans, omnibuses, and 
cabs was proceeding as though it had never 
been interrupted— the clank and jingle of 
harness chains, the cries and whip-crackings 
of drivers, rose with curious distinctness 
above the incessant trampling roar which is 
the ground-swell of the human ocean. 

"That cloud which thou sawest," said 
Fakrash, "hath swept away with it all 
memory of this affair from the minds, of 
every mortal assembled to do thee honour. 
See, they go about their several businesses, 
and all the past incidents are to them as 
though they had never been." 

It was not often that Horace could honestly 
commend any performance of the Jinnee's, 
but at this he could not restrain his admira- 
tion. " By Jove ! " he said, <c that certainly 
gets the Lord Mayor and everybody else out 
of the mess as neatly as possible. I must 
say, Mr. Fakrash, it's much the best thing 
I've seen you do yet." 

" Wait," said the Jinnee, " for presently 
thou shalt see me perform a yet more 
excellent thing." 

There was a most unpleasant green glow 
in his eyes and a bristle in his thin beard as 
he spoke, which suddenly made Horace feel 
uncomfortable. He did not like the look of 
the Jinnee at all. 

" I really think you've done enough for 

Digitized by V^iOOQ lC 

to-day," he said. " And this wind up here 
is rather searching. I sha'n't be sorry to 
find myself on the ground again." 

"That," replied the Jinnee, "thou shalt 
assuredly do before long, O impudent and 
deceitful wretch ! " And he laid a long, lean 
hand on Horace's shoulder. 

" He is put out about something ! " thought 
Ventimore. " But what? " " My dear sir," 
he said, aloud, " I don't understand this 
tone of yours. What have I done to offend 

" Divinely gifted was he who said : ' Beware 
of losing hearts in consequence of injury, 
for the bringing them back after flight is 
difficult/ " 

" Excellent ! " said Horace. " But I don't 
quite see the application." 

"The application," explained the Jinnee, 
" is that I am determined to cast thee down 
from here with my own hand ! " 

Horace turned faint and dizzy for a 
moment. Then, by a strong effort of will, 
he pulled himself together. 

"Oh, come now," he said, "you don't 
really mean that, you know. After all your 
kindness ! You're much too good-natured 
to be capable of anything so atrocious." 

" All pity hath been eradicated from my 
heart," returned Fakrash. "Therefore pre- 
pare to die, for thou art presently about to 
perish in the most unfortunate manner." 

Ventimore could not repress a shudder. 
Hitherto he had never been able to take 
Fakrash quite seriously, in spite of all his 
supernatural powers ; he had treated him 
with a half-kindly, half-contemptuous toler- 
ance, as a well-meaning, but hopelessly 
incompetent, old foozle. That the Jinnee 
should ever become malevolent towards him 
had never entered his head till now — and 
yet he undoubtedly had. How was he to 
cajole and disarm this formidable being? 
He must keep cool and act promptly, or he 
would never see Sylvia again. 

As he sat there on the narrow ledge, with 
a faint and not unpleasant smell of hops 
saluting his nostrils from some distant 
brewery, he tried hard to collect his thoughts, 
but could not. He found himself instead 
idly watching the busy, jostling crowd below, 
who were all unconscious of the impending 
drama so high above them. Just over the 
rim of the dome he could see the opaque 
white top of a lamp on a shelter, where a 
pigmy constable stood, directing the traffic. 

Would he look up if Horace called for 
help? Even if he could, what help could 
he lender? All he could do would be to 





keep the crowd back and send for a covered 
stretcher. No, he would not dwell on these 
horrors ; he must fix his mind on some way 
of circumventing Fakrash. 

How did the people in the Arabian Nights 
manage ? The fisherman, for instance ? He 
persuaded his Jinnee to return to the bottle 
by pretending to doubt whether he had ever 
really been inside it. 

But Fakrash, though simple enough in 
some respects, was not quite such a fool as 
that. Sometimes the Jinn could be mollified 
and induced to gran! a reprieve by being 
told stories, one inside the other, like a nest 
of Oriental boxes. Unfortunately Fakrash 
did not seem in the humour for listening to 
apologues, and, even if he were, Horace 
could not think of or improvise any just 
then. " Besides," he thought, " I. can't sit 
up here telling him anecdotes for ever. Fd 
almost sooner die ! " Still, he remembered 
that it was generally possible to draw an 
Arabian Efreet into discussion : they all 
loved argument, and had a rough conception 
of justice. 

"I think, Mr. Fakrash," he said, "that, in 
common fairness, I have a right to know 
what offence I have committed." 

" To recite thy misdeeds," replied the 
Jinnee, " would occupy much time," 

" I don't mind that," said Horace, 
affably. " I can give you as long as 
you like. Fm in no sort of hurry." 

11 With me it is otherwise," retorted 
Fakrash, making a stride towards him. 
"Therefore court not life, for thy 
death hath become unavoidable." 
"Before we part," said Horace, 
you won't refuse to answer one or 
two questions ? " 

"Did'st thou not undertake never 

to ask any further favour of me? 

Moreover it will avail thee nought. 

For I am positively determined to 

slay thee." 

" I demand it," said 
Horace, "in the most 
great name of the Lord 
Mayor (on whom be 
peace) ! " 

It was a desperate 
shot — but it took effect. 
The Jinnee quailed 

"Ask, then," he said; 

" but briefly, for the 

time groweth short." 

Horace determined to make one last 

appeal to Fakrash's sense of gratitude, since 

it had always seemed the dominant trait in 

his character. 

" Well," he said, " but for me, wouldn't you 
be still in that brass bottle ? " 

" That," replied the Jinnee, "is the very 
reason why I purpose to destroy thee ! " 

" Oh ! " was all Horace could find to say 
at this most unlooked-for answer. His sheet- 
anchor, in which he had trusted implicitly, 
had suddenly dragged — and he was drifting 
fast to destruction. 

" Are there any other questions which thou 
wouldst ask ? " inquired the Jinnee, with 
grim indulgence ; " or wilt thou encounter 
thy doom without further procrastination ? " 

Horace was determined not to give in just 
yet ; he had a very bad hand, but he might 
as well play the game out and trust to luck 
to gain a stray trick. 

"I haven't nearly done yet," he said. 
" And, remember, you've promised to answer 
me — in the name of the Lord Mayor ! " 

" I will answer one other question, and no 
more," said the Jinnee, in an inflexible tone, 
and Ventimore realized that his fate would 
depend upon what he said next. 

{To be continued.) 

u Pnnolr ' Original from 


The Structure of the Sidereal System. 

By Sir Robert Ball, 

{Photographs by Professor E. E. Barnard, of the Lick Observatory.] 



N the recent progress which 
has been made in the study 
of the heavens the photo- 
graphic plate has played a 
most important part. Indeed, 
the facilities which the re- 
sources of photography have placed at the 
disposal of the astronomer are every day 
increasing. The older methods of observa- 
tion are in many cases gradually being 
displaced by the more accurate and far 
more comprehensive methods which the 
camera offers. It has been asserted, and 
I do not think that the truth of the 
assertion will be questioned, that the 
advance in the astronomer's art which is 
due to the introduction of the photographic 
plate into the observatory is not less far- 
reaching in its effects than the advance which 
was inaugurated when Galileo first turned his 
newly-made telescope to the sky, and thus 
wonderfully augmented the space - penetrat- 
ing power of human vision. 

There are no doubt certain departments of 
the science of astronomy in which photo- 
graphy has up to the present not rendered any 
very particular service. Our knowledge of 
the planets, for instance, has not yet been 
much increased by taking photographs of 
them, notwithstanding the fact that some 
interesting pictures have been obtained. But 
for the representations of the stellar depths 
photography is absolutely unrivalled by any 
other process. The pictures of the sidereal 
glories that are displayed on some of the 
plates baffle all description. Indeed, strange * 
as it may seem, a glance at a photographic 
plate often conveys a far more impressive- 
notion of the stars in their clustering 
myriads than does a peep through the most 
powerful telescope. The fact is that a 
survey of the sidereal depths, as obtained 
with a telescope, is sometimes felt to be 
disappointing because the portion of the 
sky, or the field, as astronomers call it, 
which can be surveyed in a single glance 
through the telescope is so small. 

A very much larger field is usually depicted 
upon a photographic plate. In general terms 
we may say that the area of the heavens 
which is portrayed on an ordinary photo- 
graphic plate is fifty times the area which 
can be seen at one time through the eye- 
piece of a great telescope. This circum- 
stance tends to make a photographic picture 

VoL — 2 * 

of the heavens particularly impressive. It 
displays at once a large piece of a constella- 
tion. Thus, owing to the size of the area 
which is represented on the plate, the regions 
in which the stars are aggregated in clusters 
of bewildering magnificence, or the vacant 
places in which they seem but sparsely scat- 
tered, present contrasts of striking beauty. 

It is interesting in this connection to note 
that some of the most striking pictures of 
celestial phenomena which have ever been 
photographed were obtained with very simple 
apparatus. Professor E. E. Barnard, the 
distinguished astronomer, whose achieve- 
ments at the Lick Observatory and elsewhere 
have won for him well-deserved fame, has 
taken many remarkable sidereal photo- 
graphs, a number of which are reproduced in 
these pages. Professor Barnard has often em- 
ployed for this work nothing more powerful 
than an ordinary portrait lens. The lens 
and the camera connected therewith, when 
about to be employed for celestial photo- 
graphy, are attached to the tube of a 
telescope mounted equatorially. Professor 
Barnard made a very interesting experimen'; 
to show with what modest optical appli- 
ances a valuable celestial photograph can be 
obtained. By means of a lens belonging to 
a small magic-lantern he succeeded in pro- 
ducing an excellent picture, which not only 
represented an enormous tract in the 
heavens, but brought to light a mighty 
nebula which had never before been seen. 

The plates which are employed in such 
delicate astronomical researches are generally 
of the most sensitive character which can be 
manufactured. They are, in fact, so exces- 
sively rapid that, if used for the ordinary 
purposes of photography, such as taking a 
landscape or making a portrait, an exposure 
of the hundredth part of a second would 
often suffice. Such, however, is the faintness 
of many of the stars that, to obtain their 
pictures even on such a plate, an exposure 
is required which is not to be measured 
by fractions of a second, but by many 
seconds. Indeed, the fainter stars will 
only represent themselves on the plate 
after many minutes ; while in order to do 
justice to the teeming myriads of small stars 
which abound over the background of the 
heavens, the exposures have to be expanded 
from minutes to hours — not less than one, 
two, three, or even four hours being frequently 




wiOTuOKAfH v¥ rue milky «av in the constellation of sagittakijs. 

allowed. Even this limit has been occasion- 
ally surpassed. Exposures have been given 
which have lasted during the whole of a long 
night, In curtain cases successful pictures 
have been obtained in which the plate, after 
a very protracted ex[x>sure on one night, 
has been carefully covered up and then re- 
exposed in I he same position on one or more 
subsequent nights before it was submitted to 

It need hardly be said that in the pro- 
duction of such a picture it is absolutely 
necessary that each star shall be constantly 
focused on the same part of the plate. 
Owing, however, to the apparent diurnal 
motion which carries the heavens from east 
to ivest across the sky, the stars seem to be 
in continual movement- The consequence 
is that if a telescope were directed to the 

Digitized by Gt 

stars, and were then held in a 
fixed position, each star which 
was bright enough to produce 
any effect would be represented, 
not as a bright point, hut as a 
luminous streak, while the 
really faint stars would produce 
no effect whatever. The experi- 
ment has been sometimes tried 
of exposing a plate to the pole 
of the heavens and keeping it 
there fixed. As the stars 
revolve in circles around the 
pole at the centre they must 
record their tracks in circular 
arcs on the plate. This 
principle has been applied 
practically in the Harvard 
College Observatory for obtain- 
ing a graphic notion of those 
particular hours throughout the 
night during which the sky has 
been clear. For this purpose 
the plate is properly directed 
to the pole and then exposed, 
and so left until day is about 
to dawn. If, after develop- 
ment, the stellar arcs described 
are found to be without inter- 
ruption for the whole time dur- 
ing which the darkness has 
lasted, then conclusive evidence 
is provided that the night has 
been continuously clear, at all 
events in the vicinity of the 
pole. If, however, the northern 
sky has been at any time over- 
cast, of course the stars are 
then hidden, and the photo- 
graphic action is interrupted, 
and consequently the arc is imperfect. From 
the position of the interrupted portions we 
have reliable records of the exact hours 
during which the sky has been overcast and 
of those during which it is clear. 

Such a photograph gives an authoritative 
statement, which will show how far the sky 
has been suitable for observation, but it in 
no sense provides a picture of the celestial 
glories. I mention it now merely to illus- 
strate the fact that, for actually depicting 
the stellar depths on a photographic plate, it 
is necessary to obviate the effect of the diurnal 
motion* This is the reason why the camera 
when used for celestial photography has to 
be nttached to the tube of an equatorially- 
moLinted telescope. The observer who is 
conducting the operation chooses some star 
conveniently placed in the field of view. By 





incessant supervision he insures that a mark 
defined by the intersection of a pair of spider 
lines which lie in his field of view shall be 
kept fixed upon the star. Supposing that this 
guiding operation has been successfully 
accomplished, then the camera attached to 
the telescope tuoe must necessarily have been 
moved in such a way that the rays from each 
star shall have been constantly conducted to 
a focus at the same point of the plate. To 
facilitate this operation the equatorial instru- 
ment is generally driven by clockwork. No 
mechanism for guiding the telescope 
has yet been introduced will enable 
occasional supervision of the eye of 
observer to be wholly dispensed with. 
Arrangements are provided by which the 
inevitable tendencies of the instrument to 
wander slightly from keeping true time with 
the stars can be immediately checked, and 
a proper remedy promptly applied. 

One of the most remarkable features in 
these long-e\[>oscd photographs is the extra- 
ordinary multitude of the stars thereon 
depicted. That such a celestial portrait 
should exhibit a considerable number of 
bright stars, and a far 
greater number of fointcr 
stars, was, of course, only 
to be expected* But die 
actual profusion of the 
stars transcends all 
anticipation. The back- 
ground of the plate is 
strewn with innumerable 
myriads of excessively 
small points, often only 
just bright enough to be 
discernible. As the length 
of the exposure is in- 
creased, so the brightness 
of these extremely small 
points gradually rises, 
while on the other hand 
%till fainter points, which 
could not be before seen, 
now succeed in producing 
an impression. With 
every increase in the 
duration of the exposure 
the greater opportunity 
will there be for stars 
ever fainter and fainter, 
or for stars ever more 
and more distant, to have 
their photographs taken. 
In fact, as we look 
closely into one of the 
beautiful plates, the 

thought is suggested that it would be hardly 
possible to find a spot anywhere in which 
some star would not develop itself into 
visibility if sufficient exposure could be given. 
Those who have examined photographic 
plates of star depths will agree with Dr. 
Isaac Roberts, the distinguished astronomer 
who has done so much for celestial por- 
traiture, in the belief that if we could only 
expose a plate for a large number of hours 
the entire surface would seem packed with a 
solid mass of stars. 

It is perfectly certain that in many cases 
we find among the objects represented on our 
photographs stars and other celestial bodies 
which are absolutely invisible to any human 
eye* no matter how powerful may he the 
telescope to which that eye is applied. Many 
of the nebulas, for instance, which Dr. 
Roberts and other photographers have 
succeeded in portraying are largely, and in 
some cases it would seem wholly, invisible. 
There can thus be no doubt that many 
mighly celestial objects certainly exist, so 
faint that no eye has ever seen them, but 
which are yet sufficiently bright to leave an 

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Original from 

1 88 


impression on the photographic plate when 
an exposure of some hours has been given. 
This fact alone illustrates, in a striking 
manner* the extraordinary aid which photo- 
graphy has now been made to render to 

There is, however, another circumstance 
which should be mentioned in connection 
with this photographic work. Our visual 
estimates of the relative brightness of stars 
are not always identical with the estimates 
which we would form from examining the 
images of those same stars on the photo- 
graphic plates. It must be remembered that 
a beam of light contains rays of many 


of those peculiar kinds of light which mainly 
affect the photograph. In this case the 
photographs of the two stars will not by any 
means depict them as possessing equal 
importance, notwithstanding that to the eye 
they may seem the same. This sometimes 
makes no little discrepancy between the 
comparative appearances of stars as we see 
them through our telescopes and the com- 
parative appearances of the images of the 
same stars as they are represented on the 
photographic plates. 

Almost the first feature which will strike 
the observer who is examining a good photo- 
graph of the sidereal depths is that though 

there may be 
hardly any part of 
the area presented 
which is quite free 
from scars 3 yet 
they are dis- 
tributed with very 
great irregularity. 
In some regions 
the stars are 
aggregated in 
countless myriads; 
indeed, in many 
parts of the 
heavens they lie so 
closely packed that 
the individual 
points can hardly 
be distinguished 
separately. Ordi- 
nary obse rvation, 
even with the un- 
aided eye, prepares 
us in a measure for 
this striking irregu- 
larity in stellar 

Who has not 
often dwelt with 

different characters. Some of those rays 
appeal specially to the peculiar sensibility of 
the salts which are contained in a film. But 
the rays which we see best are not necessarily 
the same rays as those which are most 
energetic when chemical action is concerned. 
It may, therefore, happen that two stars 
which appear to us to be equally bright may 
differ greatly in other respects, notwithstand- 
ing that the quantity of luminous rays which 
they transmit are of equal intensity, 

That they should do so is quite compatible 
with the condition that the same two stars 
m:ty be transmitting very unequal quantities 

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admiration on that 
glorious stellar girdle which we know as 
the Milky Way? It is a mighty zone of 
stars surrounding our solar system. Indeed, 
a just estimate of the relation of the sun to 
other bodies in the scheme of the universe 
would regard our great luminary merely as 
one of similar stars aggregated in countless 
myriads to form the Milky Way, From the 
peculiar nature of the stars in the Galaxy, 
as this system is often called, it is quite 
obvious that these wonderful starry clusters 
have some bond of connection between their 
component parts, due probably to a common 
origin. To realize the splendour of the 
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Milky Way we have to remember that minute 
as the stars of which it is composed may seem 
from where we are situated, yet each one of 
those stars is in truth shining with the in- 
dependent brilliance of a sun. It might 
have been thought that it would be quite 
impossible for an object so vast and so 
bright as our sun to display no greater 
splendour than that feeble twinkle which is 
all that reaches us from one of the stars in 
the Milky Way. Here, however, the ques- 
tion of distance is of paramount importance. 

If the sun which shines in our skies were 
to be withdrawn from our neighbourhood 
into the depths of space ; if it were to be 
carried to a distance as remote as is that of 
many of the stars which we see around us, 
our great luminary would have lost all its 
pre-eminent splendour, and would have 
dwindled to the relative insignificance of a 
small star, not nearly so bright as many of 
those stars which shine over our heads every 
night. I do not indeed say that each and 
every one of the stars in the Milky Way is 
as large as our sun ; no one who understood 
the evidence would have the hardihood to 
affirm so gigantic a proposition. At the 
same time I should add that I do not know 
any grounds on which such a statement 
could be certainly contradicted if anyone 
did affirm it. The probability seems to be 
that, though many of the stars in the Milky 
Way may resemble our sun in lustre or 
dimensions, yet there are in that marvellous 
group suns lesser and greater in nearly as 
many grades of magnitude as there are 
objects in the Galaxy itself. 

The problem of determining the distance 
of a star from the earth is one which taxes 
the highest resources of the observing astro- 
nomer. Of all the millions of the celestial 
host there are hardly a hundred stars whose 
distances have been measured with accuracy 
by those surveying operations by which alone 
this problem can be accurately solved. We 
are, however, not quite destitute of methods 
by which we can in some degree estimate 
the remoteness of other stars, even though 
their distances may be so great as to elude 
entirely all the more direct methods of 
measurement. Suppose that a star were 
just bright enough to be visible to the un- 
aided eye, and then suppose that particular 
star were to be withdrawn to a distance 
ten times as great. It would still remain 
visible to us by the help of a small tele- 
scope. If the star were withdrawn to a dis- 
tance one hundred times as great, it would 
still generally remain within the ken of a 

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large telescope. When, therefore, our large 
telescopes reveal millions of stars, which 
seem just on the verge of visibility, it is plain 
that those stars, assuming that they are in- 
trinsically as bright as the stars which can 
just be seen with the unaided eye, must be 
at least a hundred times as remote. 

It should also be observed that a star as 
bright as Sirius would still be visible to the 
unaided eye, though, of course, only as a 
very small point, if it were translated to a 
distance ten times as great as that at which 
it is now situated. If Sirius were at a distance 
one hundred-fold greater than that at which 
it now lies, it would still be found within 
the range of a telescope of moderate power. 
Indeed, if Sirius were at a distance one 
thousand times as great as that by which it 
is at present separated from us, it would still 
not have passed beyond the ken of our 
mightiest telescopes. We have thus sound 
reasons for our belief that some of the stars 
which we can see through our great telescopes 
are at least a thousand times as remote from 
the earth as Sirius. 

Recent researches made by Dr. Gill 
and Dr. Elkin at the Cape of Good Hope 
have demonstrated what the distance of 
Sirius amounts to. It has been shown 
that the rays from Sirius, travelling, as they 
do, with the stupendous speed of light, 
namely, at the rate of 180,000 miles each 
second, would nevertheless require not less 
than nine years to traverse the distance 
between that star and our system. In other 
words, when we are looking at Sirius to- 
night we do not see that star as it is at 
present, but we see it as it was nine years 
ago. The light which reaches our eyes to- 
night must in fact have left the star nine 
years before. We have already shown that 
there is good reason for the belief that there 
are stars which are still visible in our great 
telescopes, notwithstanding that they are a 
thousand times farther from us than the 
brilliant Sirius. It follows by a line of 
reasoning which it seems impossible to 
question that the light from such a star 
must have occupied a period of not less than 
9,000 years in its journey to the earth. 

The consequences of such a calculation 
are indeed momentous. It is plain that we 
do not see such stars to-night as they are 
to-night, but as they were when our earth was 
9,000 years younger. The light from such 
stars which is now entering our eyes at the 
close of its unparalleled journey has occu- 
pied all that long interval in crossing the 
abyss which intervenes between the solar 

_• I I L| 1 1 I >.1 1 I I '_' 





system and the awful stellar depths. This 
vast lime has been required for the journey, 
notwithstanding the fact that the light speeds 
on its way with a velocity which would carry 
it seven times round the earth in a second. 
Indeed, the stars might have totally ceased 
to exist for the past 9,000 years, and we 
should still find them shining in their places, 
Not until all the light which was on its way to 
the earth at the time of the star's extinction 
had entered our eyes would the tidings of 
that extinction have become known to us. 
We are looking at such stars as they existed 
long before the earliest period to which any 
records of human history extend. 

We can illustrate the same subject in 
another way. Suppose that there were 
astronomers in those remote stars, and that 
they were equipped with telescopes enor- 
mously more powerlui than any telescopes 
which we have ever constructed. Suppose that, 
notwithstanding the vast distance at which 
they He, they had the means of scrutinizing 
carefully the features of this earth. In what 
condition would our globe be presented 
from their point of view? These distant 

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observers would not see any 
traces of the cities and the 
nations that now exist, 
Britain would appear to 
them as a forest inhabited 
by a few savages, and North 
America would be the home 
of the bison and the red 
man. They would look 
down on an Egypt in which 
the Pyramids had not yet 
been built, and they might 
survey the sites of Babylon 
and Nineveh long ere those 
famous cities had been 

Besides those sidereal 
objects of which we have 
spoken there are, of course, 
others seemingly us numer- 
ous as the sand on the sea- 
shore. No spectacle which 
the heavens display is more 
impressive to the beholder 
than that of a globular 
cluster, in which thousands 
of stars are beheld packed 
closely together within the 
limits of his field of view. 
Each of those stars is itself 
a sun, the whole forming a 
dense group of associated 
suns. Indescribable indeed 
must be the glory which would shine upon a 
planet which was situated in such a system. It 
seems, however, impossible that planets in 
association with thousands of suns, such as 
arc found in a globular cluster, could possess 
climatic conditions of sufficient constancy to 
meet the requirements of organic life. For 
the development of life practical stability of 
climate would seem to be essential. Such 
conditions could, so far as we know, only 
be secured in a system like our own, which 
is controlled by a single sun around which 
the several planets revolve. In such a 
case there would be no disturbances to the 
regular motion of each planet, except those 
trifling ones which arise from the attraction 
of the other planets equally beholden to the 
central luminary, But a planet primarily 
attached to one of the suns belonging to a 
globular cluster would be so much disturbed 
in its revolution by the attractions of other 
surrounding suns, that the movement of the 
body would in nil probability be too irregular 
to be compatible with any stable climatic 
conditions. The vicissitudes of climate 
with which we dwellers on the earth are 
Original from 


l 9 l 

familiar would seem as nothing in com- 
parison with the vicissitudes of climate in 
a planet belonging to a system of several 
suns. It would seem that, occasionally, the 
planet must come so near to one or other 
of the attracting suns that, if any life had 
existed on such planet, it would necessarily 
be scorched to destruction, 

Besides these globular clusters the heavens 
contain many other associations of stars 
arranged in striking groups. We may men- 
tion, for instance, the famous cluster in 
Perseus, an object of indescribable beauty, 
which, fortunately, lies wit It in the reach of 
telescopes of comparatively moderate power- 
There are also many clusters so distant that 
the stars are hardly to be discerned separately, 
in which case the object looks like a nebula* 
and the resolution of the nebula, as it 
is called — that is, the perception of the 
isolated stars of which the nebulous-looking 
object is formed- -becomes a problem which 
can only be solved by the very highest 
telescope power. It has been conjectured 
that these dim and distant clusters may be 
associations of stars very like that Milky 
Way which is relatively quite close to the 

solar system. It may, indeed, be the case 
that a sidereal group like the Milky Way 
would, if transferred to an extremely remote 
part of the universe, present much the same 
appearance in our telescopes as that which 
one of these nebulous clusters does at 

Magnificent as are the sidereal systems 
displayed to our observation, we ought still 
to remember that there is a limit to our 
vision. Even the largest and most brilliant of 
suns might be so remote as to be entirely 
beyond the ken of the greatest of telescopes 
and the most sensitive of photographic 
plates, Doubtless stars exist in profusion 
elsewhere than in those parts of space which 
alone come within range of our instruments. 
As space is boundless, it follows that the 
regions through which our telescopes have 
hitherto conveyed our vision must be as 
nothing in comparison with the realms whose 
contents must ever remain utterly unknown. 
Innumerable as may seem the stars whose 
existence is already manifest, there is every 
reason to believe that they do not amount to 
one millionth part of the stars which occupy 
the impenetrable depths of the firmament. 

I'M^iUtrk.u-M Ui? 1Mb iTAH CLUSTER ™h.i;jibK 35, 

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Original from 

The J For Id s Greatest Pictures, 

By Frederick Dolman. 

IHICH are the greatest pictures 
in the world? The question 
did not admit of an easy 
answer when it presented itself 
to the Editor of The Strand 
Magazine desirous of illus- 
trating some of these masterpieces in its 
pages. Almost anyone could draw up a list 
of a dozen literary works to which the world 
has given the stamp of pre-eminence. But 
what picture is there which in the eyes 
of mankind occupies the same place as 
11 Paradise Lost " or " Hamlet, yt " Faust ?? or 
the " Inferno " ? Tor one thing, painters are 
more prolific than writers— it is estimated 
that Titian produced more than 700 canvases 
— and pictures cannot be disseminated, as 
books are, throughout all countries. But, 
on the other hand, pictorial art is the 
language of every race, and by our recent 

advances in engraving and lithography the 
beauty of form, if not that of colour, in a 
great picture can now be made the common 
possession of all, as is beauty of thought and 
expression in a great book. 

It was obvious that the best answer to the 
question should be obtainable from some of 
our leading living painters, men who have 
roamed through the galleries of Europe with 
a trained eye. I have, accordingly, spent 
some days making a round of the studios in 
Kensington, Hampstcad, and St, John's 
Wood, asking a number of representative 
members and Associates of the Royal 
Academy to nominate one picture apiece for 
reproduction in this Magazine, and at the 
same time to explain the reason of their 
choice. Their response was of the kindest, 
but in nearly every case, it must be added, 
was accompanied by an emphatic protest 


(Selected by Sir I^awrence Atmsi'Tsitfema, R. A,) 

Original from 

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against any supposition that it is possible to 
select one picture and exalt it above all 
others ; their choice must only be regarded 
as a work of art which, having seen, they 
consider to be as perfect as anything can be 
in this imperfect world, 

" I have not seen very much," pleaded Sir 
Lawrence Alma-Tadema, R-A*, when I saw 
him at his house in Grove End Road, 
'* Many painters must have seen much more 
of the European galleries than 1 have done. 
Since my student days I have travelled 
mostly for my own work ; in my last visit to 
Rome, for instance, I did not even go to the 
Vatican. For the sake of the work in hand 
I have found it necessary to limit myself in 
this way-- when abroad— as otherwise I 
should return with weak and contradictory 
impressions of all that I had seen. 

"In reply to your question my first 
impulse is to mention Titian's 'Entomb- 
ment of Christ/ in the Louvre, which is 
certainly one of the finest works I have seen. 
But, speaking of the Vatican, I am reminded 
of Raphaels great picture there, the ' Dis- 
putation as to the Sacrament' In 1876, 
when I saw it for the first time, this picture 

ccrncd about that - I can speak of the 
picture only as I have seen it Of course, 
being a Raphael, the design and composition 
of the work are not inferior to the colouring, 
and it is this rare combination of the most 
excellent qualities in this one picture which 
leads me to mention it as an example of 
perfect art" 

The decoration of the Vatican chamber, 
of which this celebrated picture, forms a part, 
was begun by Raphael in 1508 at the age of 
twenty-five, and finished three years later. 
The title by which it is still generally known 
seems to have arisen from a misconception 
of the subject of the picture. This is not 
now regarded as a debate concerning tran- 
substantiation, but as a symbolical embodi- 
ment of the glory of the Church on earth and 
in heaven. In the fresco may be recognised 
most of the leading figures in the New and 
the Old Testament, as well as Fathers of the 
Church and several of Raphaels contem- 

" I have been through all the galleries 
of Europe, except Madrid,'' Mr. \\\ I\ 
Frith, R.A., told me, " and I must give my 
vote for Titian's ' Sacred and Profane Love, 1 


(Selected by Mr. W. P. Frith, RA) 

excited my enthusiasm, and my feeling was 
the same when I saw it again, about fifteen 
years ago. People are astonished when I 
explain my admiration. Raphael is not 
regarded usually as a great colourist, but the 
colour in this picture— of which, unfortu 
nately, no idea can be given in a repro- 
duction- — is as fine as anything of Titian's. 
The different blue tints, for instance, as 1 
remember them, are extraordinarily beautiful. 
They may riot have been so when the 
picture was first painted, but I am not con- 


Vol xx,— 25- 

in the Borghese Palace at Rome." To 
assist my own recollection of the picture the 
venerable painter of kl Derby Day' 3 and "The 
Railway Station rJ produced an illustrated 
post -card whereon it was reproduced in crude 
colours. The postcard came from a friend 
visiting Rome, who confirmed his enthu- 
siastic opinion of the picture. 

MVhal would you describe as the dis- 
tinctive merit of the work, Mr Frith?" 

"The splendid flesh colouring — the excel- 
lence of its workmanshfp in this respect can- 




not, I think, be surpassed. Of course, the pic- 
ture arouses no feeling — if you ask me how 
the one figure or the other personifies sacred 
and profane love, I shall have to reply frankly 
that I have no idea. But its supreme excel- 
lence — the magnificent tints — is quite inde- 
pendent of subject. As regards subject, 
Titian's * Bacchus and Ariadne/ in the 
National Gallery, might be preferred, although 
it is somewhat inferior in colouring, I 

In " Sacred and Profane Love," which is 
supposed to date from about 1506, the same 
lady, it will be seen, was painted by Titian 
twice, nude and draped, The greatest of 
the Venetian artists was probably not thirty 
when he produced this masterpiece, and it 
is said to have been suggested to him by 
another painter, Pal ma Vecchio, with whose 

daughter he was in love. There is but little 
doubt that she sat to Titian for the picture. 

*" If I had offered to me as a free gift any 
one of the world's pictures," said Sir W. B, 
Richmond, R.A., whom I saw in his paint- 
ing blouse during the model's midday rest 
at Beavor Lodge, " I should hardly know 
which to choose. Having seen the gems in 
all the principal galleries, I should want so 
many. Mood, of course, enters largely into 
the question. The work I want to-day would 
probably not be the work I want to-morrow. 
It is the same with all the arts. One even- 
ing I can enjoy the music of Offenbach ; the 
next I might prefer that of Bach. 

" Looking at the matter quite critically, I 
don't know that I have seen a better piece of 
work than Holbein's Morett in the Dresden 
Gallery, It is a superb portrait, answering 

every test per- 
fectly. Is it true ? 
Yes; as true as 
it can be. Is it 
broad in concep- 
tion ? Yes ; as 
broad as Rem- 
brandt. Is it 
noble in work- 
manship ? Yes ; 
as noble as 
Rubens, Oi 
course, I say no- 
thing as to emo- 
tional feeling. If 
I wanted emo- 
tional feeling 
most in a picture 
I should prefer 
Ti n toretto's 
4 Christ Before 
Pilate * at Venice, 
or half-a-dozen 
other pictures 
that I might 
mention to you." 
Morett, the 
subject of the 
picture thus 
praised, was an 
English jeweller 
whom Hans 
Holbein painted 
during his resi- 
dence in this 
country from 
1530 till his 
death in 1 543. 
At Dresden the 


(Selected by Sir W* B + Richmond, R.A.) portrait Was tQr a 




long time supposed to have been of the 
Milanese Duke, Ludovico Moro, and to have 
been painted by Leonardo da Vinci. 

When I put my question to Mr. Frederick 
Goodall, R.A.j he pointed to a picture hang- 
ing in the drawing-room of his large house in 
Avenue Road, St. John's Wood — a copy of 
Tintoretto's "Miracle of Sl Mark" in the 
Venice Gallery, 

" I spent a week making that copy," said 
Mr. Goodall, "when I was in Venice, some 
twenty years ago, and I have never seen a 
picture which impressed me more, I had 
always had the greatest longing to see this 

given to the artist who submitted the best 
sketch in a certain time. In this time, about 
a month, Tintoretto painted, not a sketch, 
but the great picture itself, and it was at 
once successful" 

Mr. Goodall had the copy taken down for 
closer inspection, and as I looked at it spoke 
of the great qualities of the original. 

" It is a daring and yet most successful 
composition, effective in grouping, full of 
life and animation. The colouring is equally 
extraordinary, rich, vivid, and full of fine 
contrast. It is true that the picture does 
not nowadays tell its own story. But if you 


(Selected by Mr. Frederick Uoodall, R.A., and Mr. Edwin A. Abbey, K.A.) 

work of Tintoretto's, and when I did see it 
my highest expectations were realized. Do 
you know the story of the picture ? Accord- 
ing to the legend, a Venetian who fell into 
the hands of the Turks in one of the holy 
wars was protected by the miraculous inter- 
vention of the patron saint of Venice. Every 
effort was made to kill the Venetian prisoner, 
but St. Mark descended from Heaven and 
baffled them all— blunting swords, breaking 
hammers, turning aside spears* A competi- 
tion was held in Venice for a picture 
depicting this incident, the commission to be 

Digitized by Vn 

acquaint yourself with this and enter into 
the superstitious spirit of the old Venetians 
— the miracle was a very real thing to them ! 

the canvas appeals warmly to the feelings. 

"That such a work, containing so many 
figures — with every one expressing individual 
liTe and charact er— and measuring probably 
the whole width of this large room, should 
have been painted in a month is a wonderful 
illustration of Tintoretto's genius. When 
[>eace was made after the long Napoleonic 
wars there was a flight of artists from 
England anxious to make or renew accjuainl- 




ance with the Continental galleries. Rogers, 
the pout, going abroad, met Sir Thomas 
Lawrence on his homeward journey, and 
said to him, ' Well, Lawrence, you've been 
" doing JI all the galleries* Who is the 
greatest painter?' And Sir Thomas replied, 
without hesitation, * Tintoretto.' Shortly 
afterwards Rogers met Henjamin West and 
then Turner, and on putting the same 
question to them they both said at once, 

It was only after a long conversation that 
Mr, Phil Morris, A.R.A*, who early in life 
became well acquainted with all the great 
pictures by winning the three years 1 travelling 
studentship of the Royal Academy, could be 

remember it so perfectly that I am sure I 
could paint a copy without looking at a 
photograph of it. It is the painter's memory, 
of course, but there are not many pictures 
of which a painter could say this much. I 
spent some weeks in Madrid, and visited the 
gallery many times, always going first to see 
1 The Surrender of Breda. 5 It impressed me 
more every time I saw it ; there is such 
vitality about it. Every figure is living- - 
so different from the tired models that so 
often appear in our modern pictures, where 
the faces seem to be weary w T ith the ennui of 
posing for the artist. If you gaze at * The 
Surrender of Breda' for a few moments you 
feel that you are standing in the midst of the 


(Selected by Mr. Phil Morris* A,R + A.> 

induced to give his vote. In the course of 
this conversation he mentioned several works 
with enthusiasm, notably Titian's " Bacchus 
and Ariadne," in the National Gallery. 
Ultimately Velasquez's " Surrender of Breda/ 1 
in the Madrid Gallery, was chosen. 

"It was twenty years ago that I last saw 
the picture," said Mr. Morris, "but I 

Digitized by GoOgJC 

crowd itself, not merely looking on apart from 
it. I had something of the same sort of feel- 
ing with regard to Sargent's portraits of the 
three sisters in this year's Academy, a picture 
which is not altogether unworthy of Velasquez 
as regards its flesh and blood vitality." 

" The Surrender of Breda," I may add, 
refers to the second capture of the Dutch 




town by the Spaniards in 1625 under the 
Marquis de Spinola. It was painted by 
Velasquez some years later from details given 
to him by Spinola. 

In a similar manner the choice of Mr. 
G , A . Storey, 
A*R,A>, wavered 
between Velasquez's 
4t Las Meninas" 
(" The Maids of 
Honour 1 ') and 
portrait of Lady 
Mulgrave. "The 
realism of 'Las 
Meninas' so 
strongly appeals to 
me," he remarked. 
" L e i g h t o n ex- 
claimed when he 
saw it in the Madrid 
Gallery, 'It is so 
modern,' which was, 
perhaps, another 
way of saying that 
Velasquez's art in 
this, as in his other 
great pictures, was 
for all time." Mr. 
Storey's close study 
of the Spanish artist 
enabled him a few years since to make an 
important discovery in the Rouen Gallery. 
The story of this discovery is amusingly told 
in the following lines, which I found written 
by a brother anist on the back of Mr. 
Storey's photograph of the portrait in ques- 
tion, the subject of which has not been 
ascertained : — 

At Rouen Storey up and says 
That jxir trail's by Velasquez ; 
Although il doesn't licar his name 
Tis by that master a] I the same, 
TwiB K there upon ihe frame. 
Change his opinion, no, he wouldn't ; 
He went and sat down like a student 
And made a clever fa€simiU+ 
Reduced in scale, commended highly 
By brother painters ; all felt able 
To Ixi ck the pal against the la I «h 
This last, it seems, was wrong itt toto — 
Now people clamour for this photo. 

In spite of devotion to Velasquez, however, 
Mr Storey was able to suggest a work by so 
comparatively modern an artist as Gains- 
borough as an example of the greatest in art, 

"The portrait," he explained, "of Lady 
Mulgrave is to my mind worthy of such a 
place simply for its beauty and refinement. 
In a reproduction you lose, of course, the 
exquisite colouring of the original, as to which 

f Selected by Mr. G. 


A + Storey, A, K.A.) 

I could say much if 1 had the picture before 
me, but even in a reproduction the qualities 
I have just mentioned stand out as pre- 

"The story of the picture," continued Mr. 
Storey, " as you 
probably know, is 
one of the romances 
of art. About 
twenty years ago 
Mr. Frith was 
lunching at one of 
the ancestral homes 
of the Norm an by 
family when his 
attention was at- 
tracted to a lady's 
portrait hanging in 
the room. He in- 
quired as to the 
artist, * I should 
know the name if I 
heard it/ said the 
lady at the head of 
the table. * Was it 
asked Frith. Yes, 
that was the name, 
Mr. Frith rose from 
his chair, looked 
more closely at the 
picture for a few moments, and astonished 
his hostess by telling her that it was pro- 
bably worth a thousand guineas. The picture 
was sent to the hammer and actually realized 
this sum. About fifteen years later— that is, 
in 1895 — the picture was sold again at 
Christie's to an American for ten thousand 
guineas, Sir William Agnew bidding up to 
j£i 0,000. A replica was found some time 
after Frith's discovery, but it was distinctly 
inferior — so impossible is it for a painter to 
repeat a great success - and when sent to the 
auction -room it was bought in for 2,000 

The choice of Mr. B. W. Leader, R.A. t 
lay between two of Turner's pictures, the 
distinguished artist, however, first remarking 
that it was dictated by his own prepossession 
in favour of landscape. These two pic- 
tures were "Polyphemus and Ulysses" and 
"Crossing the Brook," both being in the 
National Gallery. 

" Financial value apart," said Mr. Leader, 
" I think I should most like to possess the 
1 Polyphemus and Ulysses/ There is much 
more in this picture to look at than in 
'Crossing the Brook.' ( Crossing the Brook' 
—it represents p. Devonshire scene, with 




which I am well acquainted— is probably 
unique for its wonderful distance effects, but 
the foreground was composed for the picture, 
and the composition is rather obvious, even 
theatrical 'Polyphemus and Ulysses/ on 
the other hand, to which I would give the 
palm, is equally extraordinary for its splendid 
colouring and glorious imagination. The 
flap of the ship's sails, the figures of the hero 
and the monster the sea and the cliff -are 
alike painted so as to long engage one's 
attention and admiration," 

u Ulysses Deriding Polyphemus" is the 
title of this picture in the catalogue of the 

The qualities which most appeal to me 
are the intellectual — the question I would 
first ask is as to the meaning of a picture. 
But then, you know, I am a symbolist 
rather than a painter—there are certain 
things which I wished to say, and it seemed 
to me that I could say them best on 
canvas. From my point of view I should 
say that Raphael's 'Madonna' in the Dresden 
Gallery was one of the finest, if not the finest 
picture, in the world. It has the highest 
intellectual qualities as well as artistic genius, 
inasmuch as it most successfully embodies 
the best and noblest ideas which can be 


(Selected by Mr. B< W. I^er, R.A^ 

National Gallery, Turner having chosen for 
his subject the moment when, according to 
the legend, the hero, having escaped from 
Polyphemus by intoxicating the monster and 
destroying his one eye during sleep, has 
embarked in his ship, and is mocking the 
impotent rage of Polyphemus on the high 
cliffs above. It was (minted for the Royal 
Academy exhibition of 1829, and was be- 
queathed by Turner to the nation, with 
many other of his works, at his death in 185 r. 
Mn G* K Watts, R.A., whom I saw in 
his beautiful town house in Mel bury Road, 
Kensington, declared that the superlative 
should never be used in art, " A picture 
may be admired for so many different 
qualities that you can only speak relatively* 


associated with the personality of the 

Little is definitely known of the picture 
mentioned by Mr, Watts, which, by way of 
distinction, is generally called the Sistine 
Madonna {from the Church of St. Sisto of 
Piacenza, for which it was painted), and no 
studies or sketches for it have ever been 
found. It is supposed to have been painted 
when Raphael was about thirty — the great 
Italian artist was born in 1483— and has 
suffered comparatively slight injury in the 
process of restoration. It was bought from 
the monks of San Sisto by the King of 
Saxony for the Dresden Gallery in 1753, 
The price was insignificant compared with 
the ^70,000 pnidifoFn3B¥4 to the Duke gf 




Marlborough for 
the Raphae 1 
which now hangs 
in our own 
National Gallery: 
This sum, by the 
way, was more 
than three times 
higher than any 
which hitherto 
had been paid for 
a picture. 

M r . G - H . 
Boughton, R.A., 
insisted upon 
limiting his 
choice to pictures 
that could be 
seen in our own 
country, "What 
chance," he put it 
to me, " has the 
average man of 
seeing a picture 
commended to 
his notice which 
is in Rome or 
Dresden? For my 
own part, I do 
not feel com- 
petent to answer 
your question in 
the larger sense, 
bejause I have 
not been through 
the galleries of 
Italy and Spain, 
and know the 
great master- 
pieces to be found 
in both countries 
only by means 
of reproduction. 

I know the work of the Dutch and Flemish 
schools very well, and am a great admirer of 
Rembrandt ; but as I have nut seen the great 
pictures of Velasquez, say, in Madrid, I 
should not feel justified in singling out a 
Rembrandt in reply to your question." 

" But of the pictures you have seen " 

*' No, I should prefer to limit myself to 
the pictures in the United Kingdom, and 
thus limiting myself I will give Titian's 
* Bacchus and Ariadne ' in the National 

"What are the qualities, Mr, Boughton, 
which have most appealed to you in this 

picture? " Digitized by G< 

hafhael's ai sistine MAIXJNNA* 
(Selected by Mr. G + F. Walls, R,A.) 

"That is a question I could not well 
answer unless I had the picture before me, 
I have just returned from the country, where 
I have spent some days in the sunshine, 
among the hawthorn and the lilac. On the 
subject of colours in art my mind for the 
time being is quite a blank — it is like coming 
from bright daylight into a darkened room, 
I can only tell you that when I go to the 
National Gallery I first wander to this great 
work of Titian's, and after that I go and see 
the RembrandtsJ 1 

Titian, who is supposed to have reached 
the age of ninety -nine, and to have painted 
till his end ? produced " Bacchus and 





(Selected by Mr. G* H. ikmgtiion, R.A.) 

Ariadne " in the heyday of his powers. 
The picture, which was originally painted 
for the Duke of Fcrrara, has always been 
regarded as one of the finest examples of 
Titian's genius. At the same time, con- 
troversy has more than once arisen as to its 
theme. One writer, for instance, has treated 
it as a night scene, Bacchus and his party 
having gone into a wood for the purpose of 
hunting and drinking. According to a more 
plausible version, Bacchus is returning from 
a sacrifice, bearing with him part of the 
slaughtered victim and accompanied by an 
Indian serpent charmer, when he encounters 
the lovely Ariadne, in Greek mythology the 
daughter of King Minos and the deserted 
wife of Theseus, 

"You make no limitation as to time in 
your question," said Mr. Marcus Stone, R.A., 
to me, coming in light nigligi attire one hot 
afternoon from the glass house in which he 
was painting —and perspiring. " Never the- 

Digitized by Gi 

less,! shall venture to reply with the name of 
quite a recent work— Millais's i The Vale of 
Rest ? — which is now in the Tate Gallery, 

**I mention this picture because it seems 
to me to embody a most poetical idea in a 
perfect way, I have not very much sympathy, 
as you probably know, with poetry of the 
mythological and supernatural in painting. 
Pictures of this kind can be quite easily 
produced. But it is very different with such 
a picture as 'The Vale of Rest,' where the 
poetry is in touch with the actual life around 
us, where Millais has dared to use a theme — 
and has succeeded, too, in making it beautiful 
— which other painters had passed by, which 
most painters, if it had occurred to them* 
would probably have regarded as unworthy 
of art At the same time the technique 
of the picture is, of course, excellent ; Millais 
has introduced into it a landscape effect 
which was then new, although it has since 
been much imitated, The picture, indeed, 




is full of his individuality — an individuality 
which never copied others, but always marked 
out a way of its own, Millais, you know, 
was the first artist to succeed in painting a 
child since Raphael. 

"I saw *The Vale of Rest/ " continued 
Mr. Stone, " before it left Millais's studio in 
1859. T thought then that the picture was 
worthy of being ranked with the greatest 
masterpieces of the past ; I have seen it 

at Bowerswell, Perth, and some of the figures 
were repainted there in 1859 on its return 
from the Royal Academy, The cloud in the 
sky was suggested by an old Scottish super- 
stition, according to which a cloud in the 
shape of a coffin is an omen of death, 

"In replying to your question," said Mr. 
J, M. Swan, A.R.A., who has made his name 
well known in painting and sculpture alike, 
* ( it is necessary to distinguish between the 


f Selected by Mr. Marcuft Stone, R.A.) 

several times shce t and -I think quite as 
highly of it to-day.". 

Mr. Stone's opinion of this picture was not 
that of most of the critics when it was first 
exhibited at the Royal Academy. It was 
condemned as "offensive and frightful," and 
it needed the influence of Rusk in in his 
" Academy Notes " to obtain for the work 
kindlier consideration. Miliars, it is said, 
always considered this and "The Eve of 
St, Agnes *' to be h's best works*. From the 
monetary point of view neither has been his 
most successful picture* "The Vale of 
Rest" was originally sold to Mr. William 
Graham for „£ 1,500, and at the sale by 
auction of his notable collection in j 886 was 
purchased by. the late Sir Henry Tate for 
3,000 guineas. It has been exhibited at 
Manchester, Birmingham, and other places, 
and was included by Sir Henry in his muni- 
ficent gift to the nation. 

Sir John Millais painted the picture partly 

imaginative and the intellectual in art. As 
the greatest worlc in imaginative art one 
might mention a picture by Titian or a fresco 
by Michael Angelo. But in such works the 
intellectual interest is hopelessly eclipsed by 
the decorative effect; The splendid colour- 
ing pleases you immensely, but the picture 
does not move you. Pictures that most 
show the painters mind, that appeal to the 
heart and emotion, must, it seems to me, be 
painted from still life, from models, or in the 
way of portraiture, with the imaginative or the 
decorative placed in a subordinate position* 

u From this point of view I consider 
Rembrandt's * Lesson in Anatomy 5 at the 
Hague to be the finest picture I have seen/' 

Mr, Swan turned to a large volume of 
German art engravings, which stood on his 
studio table, in the hope of finding a repro- 
duction of " The Lesson in Anatomy," with 
which to illustrate what he was saying. But 
the search proved fruitless 




"The conception of this picture, which 
Rembrandt painted when he was only 
twenty- five for the Amsterdam (!uild of 
Surgeons, was not an original one on his 
pirL The subject had been treated by 
several of his predecessors, whose pictures 
hung in the surgeons' guildhall. But it was 
like the 'ninth lines' of- Shakespeare, who 
borrowed from his predecessors in a similar 
way. Rembrandt in his picture gave the 
subject a force and a realism which it had 
never had before— he has, in fact, exhausted 
all its artistic possibilities* The picture is 
full of Rembrandt's wonderful penetration as 

The " Lesson m Anatomy/ 1 painted in 
1632, remained in Amsterdam till 1828, It 
was then purchased by the King of Holland 
for a sum amounting in English money to 
about ^£3,000. 

Mr. Edwin A. Abbey, R.A., with whose 
Chelsea studio I completed my round of 
calls, at once mentioned* like Mr. Goodall, 
Tintoretto's " Miracle of St, Mark " {repro- 
duced on page 195} as the picture which 
had produced the greatest impression upon 
his mind* This was the first occurrence 
of an absolute coincidence of opinion, 
although several of the dozen artists I 


(Selected by Mr. J, \ L S*an, A-K.A.) 

well as his technical excellence — this pene- 
tration which enables him to actually portray 
the working of these men's minds as they 
stand around their master and teacher. It 
is a picture which surs the emotion and 
leaves a lasting impression upon the mind. 
I believe that any artist who had seen this 
picture, attempting a similar theme, could 
not escape from its influence. His work 
would be mere imitation Rembrandt 
exhausted the subject." 

by Google 

have consulted had incidentally referred to 
the same works in eulogistic terms, 

" I should have probably copied this 
picture, like Mr. Goodall," said the able 
American artist whom the Royal Academy 
has delighted to honour, " but for the diffh 
culties of the task in Venice. When I have 
been there in summer the gallery has always 
been too crowded with visitors, and when I 
have been there in winter it has been far too 
cold tu Mt tli ere and paint."' 

Original from 

Bv W. W. Jacobs, 

T was getting late in the after- 
noon as Master Jones, in a 
somewhat famished condition, 
strolled up Aldgate, with a 
keen eye on the gutter, in 
search of anything that would 
serve him for his tea. Too late he wished 
that he had saved some of the stale bread 
and damaged fruit which had constituted his 

Aldgate proving barren, he turned up into 
the quieter Minories, skilfully dodging the 
mechanical cuff of the constable at the 
corner as he passed, and watching with some 
interest the efforts of a stray mongrel to get 
itself adopted. Its victim had sworn at it, 
cut at it with his stick, and even made little 
runs at it — all to no purpose. Finally, being 
a soft-hearted man, he was weak enough to 
pat the cowering schemer on the head, and, 
being frantically licked by the homeless 
one, took it up in his arms and walked off 
with it. 

Billy Jones watched the proceedings with 
interest, not untempered by envy. If he 
had only been a dog! The dog passed in 
the man's arms, and, with a whine of ecstasy, 
insisted upon licking his ear. They went on 

Copyright, 1*0, bv W. W t Jacobs. 

their way, the dog wondering between licks 
what sort of table the man kept, and the 
man speculating idly as to a descent which 
apjseared to have included, among other 
things, an ant-eater, 

" 'E f a all right," said the orphan, wistfully; 
" no coppers to chivvy 'im about, and as 
much grub as he wants. Wish I'd been a 

He tied up his breeches with a piece of 
string which was lying on the pavement, and, 
his hands being now free, placed them in a 
couple of rents which served as pockets, and 
began to whistle. He was not a proud boy, 
and was quite willing to take a lesson even 
from the humblest* Surely he was as useful 
as a dog I 

The thought struck him just as a stout, 
kindly-looking seaman passed with a couple 
of shipmates. It was a good-natured face, 
and the figure was that of a man who lived 
well. A moment's hesitation, and Master 
Jones, with a courage horn of despair, ran 
after him and tugged him by the sleeve, 

11 Halloa!" said Mr. Samuel Brown, look- 
ing round, " What do you want ? " 

* 4 Want you, father," said Master Junes. 

The jolly seaman's face broke into a smile. 

the United States of America. 

Diversity of Michigan 



So also did the faces of the jolly seaman's 

" I'm not your father, matey," he said, 

" Yes, you are," said the desperate Billy ; 
" you know you are." 

" You've made a mistake, my lad," said 
Mr. Brown, still smiling. " Here, run 

He felt in his trouser-pocket and produced 
a penny. It was a gift, not a bribe, but it 
had by no means the effect its donor in- 
tended. Master Jones, now quite certain that 
he had made a wise choice of a father, 
trotted along a yard or two in the rear. 

11 Look here, my lad," exclaimed Mr. 
Brown, goaded into action by intercepting a 
smile with which Mr. Charles Legge had 
favoured Mr. Harry Green, "you run off 

" Where do you live now ? " inquired Billy, 

Mr. Green, disdaining concealment, slapped 
Mr. Legge on the back and, laughing up- 
roariously, regarded Master Jones with much 

"You mustn't follow me," said Sam, 
severely ; " d'ye hear ? " 

11 All right, father," said the boy, dutifully. 

"And don't call me father," vociferated 
Mr. Brown. 

" Why not ? " inquired the youth, art- 

Mr. Legge stopped suddenly and, putting 
his hand on Mr. Green's shoulder, gaspingly 
expressed his inability to go any farther. 
Mr. Green, patting his back, said he knew 
how he felt, because he felt the same, and, 
turning to Sam, told him he'd be the death 
of him if he wasn't more careful. 

" If you don't run away," said Mr. Brown, 
harshly, as he turned to the boy, " I shall 
give you a hiding." 

" Where am I to run to ? " whimpered 
Master Jones, dodging off and on. 

" Run 'ome," said Sam. 

"That's where I'm going," said Master 
Jones, following. 

" Better try and give 'im the slip, Sam," 
said Mr. Legge, in a confidential whisper; 
"though it seems an unnatural thing to 

"Unnatural? What d'ye mean?" de- 
manded his unfortunate friend. " Wot d'ye 
mean by unnatural ? " 

"Oh, if you're going to talk like that, 
Sam," said Mr. Legge, shortly, " it's no good 
giving you advice. As you've made your 

bed, you must lay on it," ,• 

Digiifz&d byV^C 


" How long is it since you saw 'im last, 
matey ? " inquired Mr. Green. 

" I dunno ; not very long," replied the boy, 

" Has he altered at all since you see 'im 
last ? " inquired the counsel for the defence, 
motioning the fermenting Mr. Brown to keep 

"No," said Billy, firmly ; "not a bit." 

" Wot's your name ? " 

" Billy," was the reply. 

"Billy wot?" 

" Billy Jones." 

Mr. Green's face cleared, and he turned to 
his friends with a smile of joyous triumph. 
Sam's face reflected his own, but Charlie 
Legge's was still overcast 

" It ain't likely," he said, impressively ; 
"it ain't likely as Sam would go and get 
married twice in the same name, is it ? Put 
it to yourself, 'Arry — would you ? " 

" Look 'ere," exclaimed the infuriated Mr. 
Brown, " don't you interfere in my business. 
You're a crocodile, that's wot you are. As 
for you, you little varmint, you run off, d'ye 

tie moved on swiftly, accompanied by the 
other two, and set an example of looking 
straight ahead of him, which was, however, 
lost upon his friends. 

" 'E's still following of you, Sam," said 
the crocodile, in by no means disappointed 

" Sticking like a leech," confirmed Mr. 
Green. " 'E's a pretty little chap, rather." 

" Takes arter 'is mother," said the vengeful 
Mr. Legge. 

The unfortunate Sam said nothing, but 
strode a haunted man down Nightingale 
Lane into Wapping High Street, and so to 
the ketch Nancy Be// y which was lying at 
Shrimpett's Wharf. He stepped on board 
without a word, and only when he turned to 
descend the forecastle -ladder did his gaze 
rest for a moment on the small, forlorn piece 
of humanity standing on the wharf. 

"Halloa, boy, what do you want?" cried 
the skipper, catching sight of him. 

" Want my father, sir— Sam," replied the 
youth, who had kept his ears open. 

The skipper got up from his seat and eyed 
him curiously ; Messrs. Legge and Green, 
drawing near, explained the situation. Now 
the skipper was a worldly man ; and Samuel 
Brown, A.B., when at home, played a brass 
instrument in the Salvation Army band. 
He regarded the boy kindly and spoke him 

" Don't run away," he said, anxiously. 




" Fm not going to, sir," said Master Jones, 
charmed with his manner, and he watched 
breathlessly as the skipper stepped forward 
and, peering down the forecastle, called loudly 
for Sam. 

u Yes, sir," said a worried voice. 

"Your boy's asking after you," said the 
skipper, grinning madly. 

14 He's not my boy, sir," replied Mr, Brown, 
through his clenched teeth, 

"Well, you'd better come up and see him," 
said the other, " Are you sure he isn't, 

Mr. Brown made no reply, but coming on 
deck met Master Jones's smile of greeting with 

" You hear what your father says/' said the 

skipper (" Hold your tongue, Sam.) 

Where's your mother, boy ? " 

" Dead, sir," whined Master Jones. " IVe 
on*y got 1m now," 

The skipper was a kind hearted man, and 
he looked pityingly at the forlorn little figure 
by his side. And Sam was the good man of 
the ship and a leading light at Dimport. 

" How would you like to come to sea with 
your father ? " he inquired. 

The grin of delight with which Master 
Jones received this proposal was sufficient 

" I wouldn't do it for everybody," pursued 


an icy stare, and started convulsively as the 
skipper beckoned him aboard, 

u He's been rather neglected, Sam," said 
the skipper, shaking his head, 

" Wot's it got to do with me ? " said Sam, 
violently. " I tell you I've never seen 1m 
afore this artemoon/ 


the skipper, glancing severely at the 
mate, who was behaving foolishly, '* but 
I don't mind obliging you, Sam, He can 

"Obliging?" repeated Mr, Brown, hardly 
able to get the words out. " Obliging me ? 
I don't want tfttejflbliped," 




" There, there," interrupted the skipper. 
" I don't want any thanks. Take him forrard 
and give him something to eat — he looks half- 
starved, poor little chap." 

He turned away and went down to the 
cabin, while the cook, whom Mr. Brown 
had publicly rebuked for his sins the day 
before, led the boy to the galley and gave 
him a good meal. After that was done 
Charlie washed him, and Harry, going ashore, 
begged a much-worn suit of boy's clothes 
from a foreman of his acquaintance. He 
also brought back a message from the fore- 
man to Mr. Brown to the effect that he was 
surprised at him. 

The conversation that evening after Master 
Jones was asleep turned on bigamy, but 
Mr. Brown snored through it all, though 
Mr. Legge's remark that the revelations of 
that afternoon had thrown a light upon 
many little things in his behaviour which 
had hitherto baffled him came perilously 
near to awaking him. 

At six in the morning they got under way, 
the boy going nearly frantic with delight as 
sail after sail was set, and the ketch, with a 
stiff breeze, rapidly left London behind her. 
Mr. Brown studiously ignored him, but the 
other men pampered him to his heart's con- 
tent, and even the cabin was good enough 
to manifest a little concern in his welfare, 
the skipper calling Mr. Brown up no fewer 
than five times that day to complain about 
his son's behaviour. 

" I can't have somersaults on this 'ere 
ship, Sam," he remarked, shaking his head ; 
" it ain't the place for 'em." 

" I wonder at you teaching 'im such 
things," said the mate, in grave disap 

" Me ? " said the hapless Sam, trembling 
with passion. 

" He must 'ave seen you do it," said 
the mate, letting his eye rove casually over 
Sam's ample proportions. " You must 
ha' been leading a double life altogether, 

" That's nothing to do with us," interrupted 
the skipper, impatiently. " I don't mind 
Sam turning cart-wheels all day if it amuses 
him, but they mustn't do it here, that's all. 
It's no good standing there sulking, Sam ; I 
can't have it." 

He turned away, and Mr. Brown, unable 
to decide whether he was mad or drunk, or 
both, walked back, and, squeezing himself 
up in the bows, looked miserably over the 
sea. Behind him the men disported them- 
selves with Master Jones, and once, looking 

Digitized by W 

over his shoulder, he actually saw the skipper 
giving him a lesson in steering. 

By the following afternoon he was in such 
a state of collapse that, when they put in at 
the small port of Withersea to discharge a 
portion of their cargo, he obtained permission 
to stay below in his bunk. Work proceeded 
without him, and at nine o'clock in the 
evening they sailed again, and it was not 
until they were a couple of miles on their 
way to Dimport that Mr. Legge rushed 
aft with the announcement that he was 

"Don't talk nonsense," said the skipper, 
as he came up from below in response to a 
hail from the mate. 

" It's a fact, sir," said Mr. Legge, shaking 
his head. 

"What's to be done with the boy?" 
demanded the mate, blankly. 

"Sam's a unsteady, unreliable, tricky old 
man," exclaimed the skipper, hotly ; " the 
idea of going and leaving a boy on our 
hands like that. I'm surprised at him. I'm 
disappointed in Sam — deserting ! " 

" I expect 'e's larfing like anything, sir," 
remarked Mr. Legge. 

" Get forrard," said the skipper, sharply ; 
"get forrard at once, d'ye hear?" 

" But what's to be done with the boy ? 
— that's what I want to know," said the 

" What d'ye think's to be done with him ? " 
bawled the skipper. "We can't chuck him 
overboard, can we ? " 

" I mean when we get to Dimport ? " 
growled the mate. 

" Well, the men'll talk," said the skipper, 
calming down a little, "and perhaps Sam's 
wife'll come and take him. If not, I suppose 
he'll have to go to the workhouse. Anyway, 
it's got nothing to do with me. I wash my 
hands of it altogether." 

He went below again, leaving the mate at 
the wheel. A murmur of voices came from 
the forecastle, where the crew were discussing 
the behaviour of their late colleague. The 
bereaved Master Jones, whose face was 
streaky with the tears of disappointment, 
looked on from his bunk. 

"What are you going to do, Billy?" in- 
quired the cook. 

" I dunno," said the boy, miserably. 

He sat up in his bunk in a brown study, 
ever and anon turning his sharp little eyes 
from one to another of the men. Then, with 
a final sniff to the memory of his departed 
parent, he composed himself to sleep. 

With the buoyancy of childhood he had 

yn l\\ ri en ir.nii 




forgotten his trouble by the morning, and 
ran idly about the ship as before, until in the 
afternoon they came in sight of Dim port* 
Mr. Legge, who had a considerable respect 
for the brain hidden in that small head, 

He took the wheel from Harry; the little 
town came closer ; the houses separated and 
disclosed roads, and the boy discovered to 
his disappointment that the church stood on 
ground of its own, and not on the roof of a 

( don't talk nonsense,* said the skie'Pek/' 

pointed it out to him, and with some 
curiosity waited for his remarks. 

" I can see it," said Master Jones, briefly. 

"That's where Sam lives," said his friend, 

** Yes," said the boy, nodding, "all of you 
live there, don't you? ' ? 

It was an innocent enough remark in all 
conscience, but there was that in Master 
Jones's eye which caused Mr Legge to move 
away hastily and glance at him in some 
disquietude from the other side of the deck, 
The boy, unconscious of the interest excited 
by his movements, walked restlessly up and 

" Boy's worried/' said the skipper, aside, to 
the mate ; " cheer up, sonny. 1 ' 

Billy looked up and smiled, and the cloud 
which had sat on his brow when he thought 
of the cold-blooded desertion of Mr. Brown 
gave way to an expression of serene content. 

u Well, what's he going to do?" inquired 
the mate, in a low voice. 

M That needn't worry us," said the skipper, 
11 Let things take their course ; that's my 


by Google 

large red house as he had supposed. He 
ran forward as they got closer, and, perching 
up in the bows until they were fast to the 
quay j looked round searchingly for any signs 
of Sam. 

The skipper locked up the cabin, and then 
calling on one of the shore-hands to keep an 
eye on the forecast^ left it open for the 
convenience of the small passenger. Harry, 
Charlie, and the cook stepped ashore. The 
skipper and mate followed, and the latter, 
looking back from some distance, called his 
attention to the desolate little figure sitting 
on the hatch. 

" I s'pose he'll be all right," said the 
skipper, uneasily ; ** there's food and a bed 
down the fo'c's'le. You might just look 
round to-night and see he's safe. I expect 
we'll have to take him back to London with 

They turned up a small road in the direc- 
tion of home and walked on in silence, until 
the mate, glancing behind at an acquaintance 
who had just passed, uttered a sharp excla- 
mation. The skipper turned, and a small 
figure which had just dot round the comer 




stopped in mid career and eyed them warily. 
The men exchanged uneasy glances. 

" Father," cried a small voice, 

" He — he's adopted you now, 1 ' said the 
skipper, huskily. 

"Gr you," said the mate. " I never took 
much notice of him + " 

He looked round again. Master Jones was 
following, briskly, about ten yards in the 
rear, and twenty yards behind him came the 
crew, who, having seen him quit the ship, 
had followed with the evident intention of 
being in at the death. 

" Father," cried the boy again, " wait for 

One or two passers-by stared in astonish- 
ment, and the mate began to he uneasy as to 
the company he was keeping. 

" Let's separate," he growled* " and see 
who he's calling after." 

The skipper caught him by the arm. 
" Shout out to htm to go back," he cried. 

"Its you he's after, I tell you," said the 
matt'. " Who do you want, Billy ? " 

**I want my father," cried the youth, and, 

whether it would be better to wipe Master 
Jones off the face of the earth or to pursue his 
way in all the strength of conscious innocence. 
He chose the latter course, and, a shade more 
erect than usual, walked on until he came in 
sight of his house and his wife, who was 
standing at the door. 

" You come along o' me, Jem, and explain/* 
he whispered to the mate. Then he turned 
about and hailed tf e crew. The crew, flattered 
at being offered front seats in the affair, 
came forward eagerly. 

11 What's the matter ? " inquired Mrs, Hunt, 
eyeing the crowd in amazement as it grouped 
itself in anticipation. 

" Nothing, 11 said her husband, offhandedly, 

" Wlio'^ that boy ? " cried the innocent 

" It J s a poor little mad boy," began the 
skip]K i r ; "he came a I ward " 

"I'm not jnad, father/' interrupted Master 

"A poor little mad boy/' continued the 
skipper, hastily, "who cam* aboard in London 
and said poor old Sam Brown was his father/' 


to prevent any mistake, indicated the raging 
skipper with his finger. 

" Who do you want ? " bellowed the latter, 
in a frightful voice. 

" Want you, father/' chirrupped Master 

Wrath and dismay struggled for supremacy 
in the skipper's face, and he paused to decide 


"No —you, father/' cried the boy, shrilly, 
" He calls everybody his father," said the 

skipper, with a smile of anguish ; " that's the 

form his madness takes. He called Jem here 

his father." 

" No, he didn't," said the mate, bluntly, 
"And then he thought Charlie was his 

father," Original from 



11 No, sir," said Mr. Legge, with respectful 

" Well, he said Sam Brown was," said the 

" Yes, that's right, sir," said the crew. 

" Where is Sam ? " inquired Mrs. Hunt, 
looking round expectantly. 

" He deserted the ship at Withersea," said 
her husband. 

"I see," said Mrs. Hunt, with a bitter 
smile, "and these men have all come up 
prepared to swear that the boy said Sam 
was his father. Haven't you ? " 

" Yes, mum," chorused the crew, delighted 
at being understood so easily. 

Mrs. Hunt looked across the road to 
the fields stretching beyond. Then she 
suddenly brought her gaze back and, look- 
ing full at her husband, uttered just two 
words : — 

" Oh, Joe!" 

"Ask the mate," cried the frantic skipper. 

" Yes, I know what the mate'll say," 
said Mrs. Hunt. "I've no need to ask 

" Charlie and Harry were with Sam when 
the boy came up to them," protested the 

"I've no doubt," said his wife. "Oh, 
Joe ! Joe ! Joe ! " 

There was an uncomfortable silence, during 
which the crew, standing for the most part on 
one leg in sympathy with their chief's embar- 
rassment, nudged each other to say something 
to clear the character of a man whom all 

"You ungrateful little demon," burst out 
Mr. Legge, at length ; " arter the kind way 
the skipper treated you, too." 

" Did he treat him kindly ? " inquired the 
captain's wife, in conversational tones. 

" Like a fa — like a uncle, mum," said the 
thoughtless Mr. I-»egge. " Gave 'im a passage 
on the ship and fairly spoilt 'im. We was 
all surprised at the fuss 'e made of 'im ; 
wasn't we, Harry ? " 

He turned to his friend, but on Mr. 
Green's face there was an expression of such 
utter scorn and contempt that his own fell. 
He glanced at the skipper, and was almost 
frightened at his appearance. 

The situation was ended by Mrs. Hunt 
entering the house and closing the door with 
an ominous bang. The men slunk off, 
headed by Mr. Legge ; and the mate, after 
a few murmured words of encouragement to 
the skipper, also departed. Captain Hunt 
looked first at the small cause of his trouble, 
who had drawn off to some distance, and 

Vol. xx.— 27. 

Digitized by VjOOSIC 

then at the house. Then, with a determined 
gesture, he turned the handle of the door 
and walked in. His wife, who was sitting 
in an arm-chair, with her eyes on the floor, 
remained motionless. 

" Look here, Polly ," he began. 

" Don't talk to me," was the reply. " I 
wonder you can look me in the face." 

The skipper ground his teeth, and strove 
to maintain an air of judicial calm. 

" If you'll only be reasonable ," he re- 
marked, severely. 

" I thought there was something secret 
going on," said Mrs. Hunt. " I've often 
looked at you when you've been sitting in 
that chair, with a worried look on your face, 
and wondered what it was. But I never 
thought it was so bad as this. I'll do you 
the credit to say that I never thought of 

such a thing as this What did you 

say ? ... . What ? » 

" I said * d ! ' " said the skipper, ex- 

" Yes, I've no doubt," said his wife, 
fiercely. "You think you're going to carry 
it off with a high hand and bluster ; but you 
won't bluster me, my man. I'm not one of 
your meek and mild women who'll put 
up with anything. I'm not one of 
your " 

" I tell you," said the skipper, " that the 
boy calls everybody his father. I daresay 
he's claimed another by this time." 

Even as he spoke the handle turned, and 
the door opening a few inches disclosed the 
anxious face of Master Jones. Mrs. Hunt, 
catching the skipper's eye, pointed to it in an 
ecstasy of silent wrath. There was a breath- 
less pause, broken at last by the boy. 

" Mother ! " he said, softly. 

Mrs. Hunt stiffened in her chair and her 
arms fell by her side as she gazed in speech- 
less amazement. Master Jones, opening the 
door a little wider, gently insinuated his small 
figure into the room. The skipper gave one 
glance at his wife and then, turning hastily 
away, put his hand over his mouth and, 
with protruding eyes, gazed out of the 

" Mother, can I come in ? " said the 

" Oh, Polly ! " sighed the skipper. Mrs. 
Hunt strove to regain the utterance of which 
astonishment had deprived her. 

" I . . . . what .... Joe .... don't 
be a fool ! " 

" Yes, I've no doubt," said the skipper, 
theatrically. " Oh, Polly ! Polly ! Polly ! " 

He. put his hand over his mouth again 

I a I I I _' I 1 1 





and laughed silently, until his wife, coming 
behind him, took him by the shoulders and 
shook him violently* 

" This/ 7 said the skipper, choking; "this 
is what « « « you've been worried about. . . . 
This is the secret what's n 

He broke off suddenly as his wife thrust 
him by main force into a chair, and standing 
over him with a fiery face dared him to say 
another word. Then she turned to the 


" What do you mean by calling me 
' mother' ? ? ' she demanded. " Tm not 
your mother." 

" Yes, you are," said Master Jones, 
Mrs* Hunt eyed him in bewilderment, and 
then, roused to a sense of her position by a 

renewed gurgling from the skipper's chair, 
set to work to try and thump that misguided 
man into a more serious frame of mind. 
I' ailing in this, she sat clown and, after a 
futile struggle, began to laugh herself, and 
that so heartily that Master Jones, smiling 
sympathetically, closed the door, and came 
boldly into the room. 

The statement, generally believed, that 
Captain Hunt and his wife adopted him, is 
incorrect, the skipper accounting for his 
continued presence in the house by the 
simple explanation that he had adopted 
them. An explanation which Mr. Samuel 
Brown, for one, finds quite easy of accept- 

by Google 

Original from 

The Topsy - Turvy House 

By Meta Heninl 

From Photographs zxdurivcly taken for THE STRAND MAfiAEINR. 

HE side shows of the Paris 
Exhibition are for the most 
part situated in the Rue de 
Paris, and on a fashionable 
evening — which by the way has 
been fixed by A? tmni matide 
for every Friday during the duration of the 
Exhibition — that splendidly illuminated 
thoroughfare fairly teems with the chic of 

When visitors are tired of instruction and 

the " Long Toms n made at Creusot, they 
are anxious for a holiday, for a breathing- 
space, and they will find their weary feet 
take them to the Rue de Paris. 

There they will discover side shows from 
all parts of the civilized and uncivilized 
world, and among other things they will be 
startled by an extraordinary structure which 
is called H Le Man&ir a f£nvcr$" namely, a 
topsy-turvy house, built so that its roof is to 
be found where the foundations should be, 


edification ; when they are filled with the 
wonders of manufacture and the marvels of 
science ; when they are surfeited with the 
marvellous cheeses made in Switzerland and 

by LiOOgle 

and the wine-cellar is placed where the 
chimneys of well-behaved suburban villas are 
invariably situated. 

The idea of building a house upside down 





is, from the showman's point of view, dis- 
tinctly ingenious, and Mr. Adolphe Kotin, a 
Russian gentleman, has scored a point in 
catering for the curiosity and wonder loving 
propensities of the average holiday-maker. 

During an interview which took place 
under the roof (#>., in this ease the 
foundations oF the building) I gathered some 
interesting details of how this extra- 
ordinary attraction first came to the 
light of day. 

Mr. Kotin, it appears, was one day 
asked by a friend to contribute towards 
a fund which was being got up for the 
benefit of a brother mortal in tem- 
porary difficulties. It transpired that 
this gentleman in difficulties expected 
an early call from the local ** man in 

When Mr Kotin had subscribed 
towards the sum needful to keep the 
undesirable visitor out of bounds, he 
suggested that the hard-up man should 
take his furniture and screw it to the 
ceilings, so that when the man in 
possession came in he would find 
nothing to take possession of, and 
consequently speedily show him the 
shine on the back of his best Sunday 

There was more in that jocular 

Digitized by Google 

suggestion than most people would have 
dreamt of, however, and the idea struck 
Mr. Kotin as one that showed possibilities 
of considerable pecuniary profit if carried 
out in reality. 

Plans were made, showing rooms in 
which the whole of the furniture was to be 
screwed to the ceiling, where vases stood on 
chimney-pieces upside down, where every 
knick-knack peeped at you face downwards. 
These were of no avail, however, for Mr. 
Kotin found that by such means real life — 
that is, movement on the part of the 
occupants of the various rooms — could not be 
shown, and as people are not to be screwed 
down, he bethought himself of a different 
plan which we find realized in the present 
structure, but not quite to the expectation of 
the inventor, owing principally to the short 
space of time given him for construction, 
and the monstrous way in which the Exhibi- 
tion workmen behaved when they found that 
they were, for the time being at least, "the 
cocks of the walk/ 1 

Mr. Kotin, finding his original plans next 
to impossible, had recourse to optical illusion 
in a very fascinating and original conception. 
We may as well give the whole thing away 
at once. There are mirrors upon mirrors; 
mirrors before you, mirrors behind you, 
above you, and on every side ; in fact* there 
are mirrors wherever you may chance to be 

Where Mr. Kotin J s chief difficulty lay, 
however, was in obtaining sufficiently large 
mirrors lo suit his purpose. Eight of the 

1 *■ 

^V^ttr jm 





^. V^B 


I rrni s* 

KL -""^j 

MY LAl>Y.; auL'PUlK. 




leading glass manufacturers of France 
absolutely refused to entertain the making 
and above all the fitting to the ceilings, of 
such huge mirrors as Mr* Kotin demanded. 


At last, however, nn enterprising firm took 
up the matter, and Mr, Kotin tells me that 
the mirrors which are placed on the ceilings 
of the various rooms in the *' Manoir 
a l'Envers" are without exception 
the largest of their kind in the 
world. The manufacture and fitting 
in position have cost no less than 
36,000 francs all told. 

It appears that glass, however 
thick, is so Rexible that it became 
impossible to place the mirrors, 
some of w T hich are about 12ft. 
square, on the ceilings, as desired, 
without some support, which in this 
case consists of a glass pillar which 
supports each mirror in the centre. 

The "roof" of the building, as 
will be seen on a near approach, is 
about 7ft. from the ground, nearly 
touching the hat of a tall man as 
he passes underneath. The tiles 
remind you of their presence, though 
you do your best to avoid them, and 
you enter by means of the chimney, 
the smoke of which comes out face 
downwards; whilst the drain-pipes 
possess exits far above the trees which line 
the avenue. 

The chimneys and buttresses of this 

Digitized by t^OOQ lC 

mediaeval castle {which ancient structure the 
building is supposed to represent) support 
it, and the cellar, with its wine and spirit 
bottles all upside down, is to be found about 
50ft. above ground-level 

At the so-called entrance-door you 
will observe that the clock and the 
lettering are upside down, and as 
you enter you will find yourself 
walking up the steps with your feet 
upwards and your head at a perilous 
angle ; while farther on you will find 
a lady in a drawing-room knitting 
very prettily on a sofa which looks 
as though it were suspended upside 
down by a thread to the ceiling 
above, Soon your head will swim 
in bewilderment, and quite naturally 
you make your way to the bath-room, 
where the water flows upwards into 
an upside-down bath-tub, in defiance 
of all the laws of gravity. Further 
still, a gentleman, in this instance 
Mr, Kotin himself, will be found 
trying to swallow his food feet up- 
wards in the dining-room, and how 
the dainty mistress of Topsy-Turvy- 
dom fares in her boudoir is a 
problem the solution of which we 
will leave to others. 

The Louis XV + furniture, with which, by 
the way, this curious mansion is furnished 


throughout, is of the most costly description 
and, though seen upside down, enhances the 
prettiness of the various rooms, 




The building 
itself is made en- 
tirely of iron, 
covered with plas- 
ter, and in sec- 
tions, so that it 
may be easily 
taken to pieces 
and removed when 

Mr* Kotin, 
speaking of the 
construction of 
the Topsy-Turvy 
House* was espe- 
cially emphatic in 
ascribing much of 
its success to the 
valuable assist- 
ance he has re- 
ceived at the 
hands of M r. 
Henri Gros, the 
popular and well- 
known managing director of the Metropolitan 
Theatre in the Edgware Road, who has taken 
great interest in the scheme, and to whose 
energy the existence of this unique attraction 
is mainly due. 

It appears that when Mr. Kotin first 
suggested the idea of a Topsy-Turvy House 
everyone laughed, and people shrugged their 
shoulders and smiled sadly — that is, when 
they did not say rude things ; but though 
Mr. Kotin is a 
Russian by birth, 
he has been 
schooled in Eng- 
land, where 
dogged persever- 
ance is taught as 
in no other 
school in the 

The workmen 
to whom the 
inside arrange- 
ments of the 
building were in- 
trusted had to 


be watched night 
and day. They 
would insist on 
placing the win- 
dows the right way 
up and the wall 
paper with buds 
pointing upwards ; 
then j again, in 
their endeavours 
to do well they 
fixed the staircases 
intended for visi- 
tors upside down, 
so that it would 
have been im- 
possible to enter 
the building at all ; 
hence, upon Mr. 
Kotin's arrival 
after a day's ab- 
sence he found it 
impossible to ne- 
gotiate the stairs, 
and no small amount of diplomacy was 
required to make the men understand that, 
though most things were to he upside down, 
the means of ingress and egress had to be 
perforce constructed according to ordinary 

Taken altogether the conception and con- 
struction of the "Manoir a I'EnveiV has 
proved no small undertaking to the inventor, 
and he is to be complimented on the credit- 
able manner in 
which he has 
succeeded, not- 
withstanding the 
enormous diffi- 
culties which un- 
toward circum- 
stances have 
placed in his 
way, in pro- 
ducing one of 
the most extra- 
ordinary attrac- 
tions which have 
ever astonished 
the public. 


by Google 

Original from 

The Popularity of Joshua Push 

By GfcOROE G. Farquhar. 



HE little country inn had 
many attractions for a jaded 
Londoner whose requirements 
were not too exigent Within 
an hour's railway journey of 
town, the house stood back 
from the main street— all gable-ends, clus- 
tered chimney-stacks, and clinging ivy; the 
living rooms spick and span to dainti- 
ness, cosy as a nest. The landlord, 
Ben Powell, was a frank-spoken, un- 
assuming young 
fellow, ever alert 
to anticipate one's 
wants — and his 
wife was a born 
cook. Further- 
more—and herein 
lay one of the 
chief charms of 
the place for me 
— the i n n k eeper 
could frequently 
secure permission 
for his guests to 
fish in the trout- 
stream flowing 
through the 
meadows and 
park - lands of 
Voyne Towers, 
Of this esteemed 
privilege I did 
not neglect to 
avail myself when- 
ever possible* 

One day, re- 
turning from my 
angling in the 
park, I was accosted at a 
lonely point in the lane 
by some blowzy loafer or 
tramp, who grew trucu- 
lently assertive because I did not see fit 
to acquiesce in his extravagant claims 
upon my purse, His bluster, however, 
amounted to nothing in the end. On my 
arrival at the inn I told Powell of the annoy- 
ance to which I had been subjected, adding 
a somewhat brutal suggestion as to how all 
such ruffians should be treated, had I my 
Will Powell politely and diplomatically 

Digitized by L^OOgle 


agreed with me in toio* Then he laughed ; 
not his usual full - throated, breezy laugh, 
indeed, but rather a kind of spasmodic 
chuckle, which Finished with an abrupt jerk. 

"Beg pardon, sir," said he> confusedly; 
" but it reminds me of something that hap- 
pened when I was out West Precious ugly 
fix it was for me, too. You may lay your 
life I didn't see the fumiy side of it then. 
By James— no ! " 

Although I had often detected the 
recurrence of certain Americanisms 
in his talk, my 
curiosity had 
never been hither- 
to sufficiently 
piqued to ques- 
tion him as to 
the origin of 
them. Scenting a 
story now, I 
straightway waxed 
chafingly im- 
patient We had 
the bar-parlour to 
ourselves, and the 
time being mid- 
afternoon, it was 
probable that our 
solitude would 
not be broken in 
upon for a good 
half-hour at least. 
My pipe chanced 
to be in full blast ; 
but Powell's 
cigar, after burn- 
ing all down one 
side, had gone out 
altogether. I 
handed him another, and 
mentally vowed to deprive 
my tobacconist of a patron 
in future. Nodding towards 
I waited until Ben had 

our empty glasses, 
refilled them. 

" Now we're in 

i » 

trim," said L 


And he began : — 

Then-a-days I'd gone out to the States, 
like many another young chap before and 
since, hoping to better myself— perhaps even 




making my pile in time by hard and honest 
work. Soon as I felt my feet, so to say, I'd 
planned to send back for Jennie, marry her, 
and settle down out there. Jennie was at 
that date head housemaid up at the Towers, 
and it's really through my wife I'm able to 
get fishing permits now, sir. 

Well, the programme looked a healthy 
sort on paper — only it never panned out 
worth a cent in practice. Whether it was I 
didn't come up to the Yankee standard in 
snap and go, or whether I'd too many Sunday- 
school notions of honesty and honour still 
left in me, or whether again it was sheer bad 
luck all through, doesn't much matter now. 
Anyway, the dollars wouldn't fly into my 
pockets, whosoever else's they favoured. For 
close on three years I'd been out there — 
moving gradually farther West, here a job 
and there a job, but most hand to mouth all 
the while — till at last I fetched up at Probity 
Springs, the chief town or county seat of 
Canovas County, Idaho. I'd trudged over 
from Lotusville that day, twenty miles away, 
after putting in a few weeks at the smelters 
there, where I got into a slight argument 
with Buck Jarvis, the deputy-foreman, and 
had to quit rather sudden in consequence. 
Come to tot up my finances, I found it 
figured out at bomething just under a dollar 
and a half, with no more idea than Adam 
how to add a cent to it, nor which way to 
turn for a fresh start. I tell you, sir, I felt 
pretty considerable down. 

To make it worse, I'd always been writing 
to Jennie as if I'd already got into my stride 
and was forging ahead like wildfire. Some- 
how, I hadn't the heart to let her know my 
disappointments. But I fancy she must have 
guessed how black things really were, for 
latterly her letters hadn't harped so much 
about her coming out to me as about my 
going back to her. She said she didn't feel 
she'd ever care for America to live in ; it 
wouldn't seem same as home to her, noways ; 
and besides, there was the long, lonesome 
years of separation and waiting. Her last 
letter had something more practical in it, 
too. She wrote me that old Barnard, 
who used to keep this house in those days, 
talked about retiring from the " public " 
business altogether, him getting well on in 
years ; and that Lord Voyne, the owner, had 
hinted his willingness to offer me first refusal 
of the tenancy, provided I'd a little cash to 
come in on, you understand. Jennie — bless 
her heart ! — had a few pounds put away, and 
she thought with what I'd also saved we 
couldn't do better, and would I think it over 

by L^OOgle 

and decide soon ? My word, it didn't call 
for any considering at all ! If things had 
only been different I'd have hurried back 
like a shot. But as it was — well, now you'll 
partly understand what was worrying me 
when I came within sight of Probity Springs. 

Just before getting to the township, being 
foot-sore and dog-tired, I stopped for a short 
rest under a clump of scrub-oaks by the 
roadside. While I was squat on my hunkers 
there a lanky, leather -faced man, with a 
goatee beard and eyes like a hawk, came 
sailing past. As he went by he stared hard 
and half-opened his mouth as if he meant to 
speak. Then, seeing I didn't know him 
from Christopher, he shut his face and 
marched straight on again. But he hadn't 
gone more than fifty yards before he slewed 
sharp round and walked back to where I 
was sitting. 

" Howdy, Britisher?" said he, chirpy as a 
sparrow. " Knew I'd met you somewhere 
before. Reckon it must have been back 
last week, when you an' Buck Jarvis was 
adjustin' a difference outside Brannigan's 
saloon, hey, now ? I never could cotton 
to Buck's bullyraggin' ways myself, an* it 
'mazed me to think nobody in all Lotusville 
had grit enough to tell him he wasn't the 
little tin god he set up to be. The hefty way 
you waltzed round an' man-handled him ! 
Losh, but it was great, sir — great ! " 

Of course, he was referring to my scrap-up 
with the deputy-foreman. Now, I don't say 
I had the best of the tussle altogether, 
mind you — for Jarvis was a hard nut ; only 
I didn't have to swallow my front teeth like 
he did, anyway. 

" The neatest piece o' fist - play ever I 
was in at ! " the man went on. " I was a 
private spectator all the time. My own 
personal affairs had taken me over to Lotus- 
ville that day. It's jes' as well I wasn't thar 
officially, in a matter of speakin', or I'd have 
had to chip in an' stop it, mebbe." 

11 Stop it ! Why ? " 

" Bein' ez how I'm Sheriff!" he explained, 
importantly. " But I'm not goin' to slip up 
on you now. No, sir ! Joshua K. Push 
ain't thet breed, you bet. Sheriff or no 
Sheriff, he has a powerful admiration for any 
man with pluck and backbone, an' he'd be 
mighty pleased to shake with you now. Put 
it thar, matey." 

I stood up, stammered something or other 
in reply, and "put it thar." But I was 
puzzling harder than ever what his little 
game could be, for I suspected he'd an axe 
of his own to grind. 

Original from 




•* ■ i'm sheriff ! * hk explained." 

" You're the very man I'm wantin'," said 
he, speaking lower and more cautious-like. 
" When I saw the beautiful way you lammed 
inter Buck Jarvis a voice outer the back of 
my head whispered to me, * Joshua K., that's 
the boy for your money — muscle, sand, and 
savvy, it's all thar ! ' An* I 'low the voice 
was 'bout right. Yes, Britisher, you kin help 
me, so be's you're willin'. An' thar's fifty 
dollars, spot-cash, the minute you say you'll 
take hold." 

"What have I to do to earn it?" I asked, 
trying not to seem over eager, though my 
pulse was going like a clock. 

"A half-hour'll see you through the job. 
All you want is nerve, bounce, and bluff. 
An' thar's a hundred dollars extry at the tail- 
end of it ef we both come out on top at the 

I waited to hear more particulars. 

" It's like this," he said, presently. 
"Thishyer's the second time I've served ez 
Sheriff, an' I'm fixin' to run for a third term. 
The billet kinder 'pears to suit me first-rate, 

~ K ' giliz ed by \j OOQ It 

VoL XX. -2a 

an' I mean stickin* to it 
Howsever, I've jes' come to 
hear thet the bosses who set 
up the delegations in the 
other townships are niakin' 
a dead-set agin me, proposin' 
to put up Hans Drecht an' 
fire me off the nomination 
ticket. Thet bein' so, I've 
got to demonstrate I'm a 
sounder candidate *n Hans, 
right now. An' you're goin* 
to help me do it ! " 

" Me ! " I cried, gaping 
like a fish out of water. 
" How in thunder can I do 

41 I'll tell you when once 
we've agreed on the price. 
Now, seein' it's politics we're 
on — in a manner of say in', 
electioneering anyway— an' 
thet electioneerin' is a dirty 
trade for any gentleman, 
I'm quite prepared to pay 
more on account of the 
dirt. Suppose we make 
the hundred dollars two 
hundred an' fifty ? " 

" I t's handsome — hand- 
some ! " I replied, smartly. 
"Only I'd like to know 
exactly what I'm expected 

to " 

" Don't hustle me, pard. 
It's my call, an' I haven't climbed to top- 
notch figures yet. You're fprgettin' to insure 
agin accidents, I'm thinkin'. Wal, knowin' 
my man, I ventur' to say thar's no risk at all 
— nary an ounce. But I grant you may think 
different. An' so I put up another two hundred 
an' fifty dollars for risk— five hundred alto- 
gether, an' thet's my limit. Hyer we are, 
then — fifty dollars soon's you accept the 
contract, an' five hundred more ef you bring 
it safe through, me findin' all the outfit an' 
accessories. Now, how's thet strike you, hey ? 
It struck me dumb. Here, when I least 
expected it, I saw a tidy fortune dangled in 
front pf me—to say nothing of a wife and a 
flourishing business hanging on to it. Just 
then, as I've mentioned already, I felt so 
desperate I believe I'd have entered into a 
bargain with Old Horny himself for fifty 

But after Mr. Sheriff Push had gone on to 
enlighten me about the part I was to play I 
confess it sobered me. Simple and easy 
though he tried to make it out, I myself 




could see little else but foolery and danger 
in it — with, a long way ahead, possibly 
dollars. I admit it was only the thought of 
the gold that drew me on an inch farther. 

" Mebbe you'd ruther turn it over in your 
mind for the next hour ? " said Push, as I 
stood there humming and hawing. " Ez 
this seems a nice secluded neighbourhood to 
confab in, I'll fix it so's to be hyer agin at 
five o'clock. The hull thing must be settled 
to-night one way or the other. Say, how'U 
five o'clock fit you ? " 

I agreed .to the arrangement; and then, 
forcing a five-dollar bill on me, he swung off 
in one direction, while I took the opposite 
path down to the town. Here, after I'd 
wrapped myself round a square meal, with a 
peg or two of tangle-foot thrown in, I began 
to see the comic side of the entire business. 
It tickled my fancy so that I, too, lost touch 
of the risks altogether. I felt somehow thr.t 
if there was going to be sport, I ought to be 
in at it. 

Well, we were both on time at the meeting- 
place, the Sheriff and myself. By six o'clock 
the details had been talked over and every- 
thing put in order for the attempt in the 
morning. Fifty dollars earnest-money changed 
hands, and the plot was hatched out, alive and 
full-fledged. Seeing the hanky-panky he was 
then engaged on, I've often wondered since 
why I was so ready to take Mr. Push at his 
bare word. I can't account for it now, I'm 
sure — but, anyway, I did. 


Next day, in the afternoon, there was to be 
rare stirrings over at Lotusville, consequent 
on the opening of a new Commemoration 
Hall in that town. Both Hans Drecht and 
the Sheriff were to orate on the occasion, 
and the pair of them well knew that their 
chances at the coming poll would depend a 
good deal on what they said there and how 
they said it. You see, local affairs wasn't 
the platform they were fighting on at all — 
nobody cared a brass farthing about that ; 
neither was it a question of party politics — 
Hans Drecht being quite as warm a Democrat 
and Silverite as Joshua K. himself. For 
any gold-coinage Republican breathing to 
have put himself forward for the Sheriffship 
would have been as much as his life was 
worth in Canovas County. No ; the election 
would not turn on back-yard or national 
politics in the least, but simply and solely 
on— patriotism. At that time the Yankees 
were in the thick of a war-fever— got the 
complaint precious bad, too. It was 

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" Hail, Columbia ! v and " The Star-spangled 
Banner " all along the line. The Bird of 
Freedom was on the almighty crow, flapping 
his wings and sharpening his beak ready to 
swoop down and claw into shreds some 
bullying nation or other — I forget now 
just exactly which. Anyhow, that's where 
the test came in. Whichever of the two 
candidates could manage to chuck the 
rippingest battle-speech off his chest, that man 
was dead sure to scoop up the votes and bag 
the situation. 

Soon after breakfast the Sheriff and his 
cousin, Jude Willis, drove out from Probity 
Springs along the road to Lotusville, Push 
himself tooling the team. They'd gone a 
matter of eight miles or thereabouts when 
who should they drop across but Hans 
Drecht, with Deacon Butt, his Chairman of 
Committee, and another committee-man — all 
three standing beside a broken-down buggy, 
swearing like troopers at the driver who'd 
tipped them out into the roadway. Trying 
to shave a corner too close, he'd smashed 
into a stump-fence and taken a wheel off. 

The Sheriff pulled up to sympathize. He 
didn't want to gloat any, not he, over the 
accident to his opponent As he'd once 
remarked to me, he couldn't help knowing 
that Hans Drecht was just about the meanest 
cuss on the face of God's earth — no more 
fitted to be Sheriff'n a boiled owl — yet, for 
all that, he felt free to claim that he bore the 
skunk no personal grudge or malice. He 
pitied even more'n he despised the reptile. 
So, when he saw how matters stood — how, 
there being no handy way of repairing 
the damage, nor any place within five or 
six miles where another conveyance could be 
got — how, also, the delay meant that they'd 
be too late to attend the celebrations at 
Lotus\ille — when Mr. Push, I say, had quite 
mastered these points, he at once showed his 
unselfish high-mindedness by up and saying 
he'd be gratified to find seats for Hans and 
his supporters in his own surrey. I warrant 
they didn't take long to study it over, but 
closed with the offer on the spot. 

Joshua chirruped to the ponies and bowled 
on with a heavier load ; but not before a 
sly nod and a lightning wink had passed 
between him and the blundering jarvey, who 
was left behind to look after the overturned 
machine. Oh, I'll lay that coachee and 
Joshua K. Push understood one another to a 
hair ! 

" Gave me a kinder start jes' now, seein' 
you three cavortin' out thar in th^ middle of 
the track," the Sheriff said, after a spell of 





silence. "Guess I must have been thinkin' 
it was rand-agents or suthin 1 thet way." 

Now, towards the northern end of the 
4i Panhandle" there had lately been a lot of 
road-agenting going on. The various parties 
who'd been stopped and unloaded had 
different tales to tell— some saying they'd 
been set upon by a gang of ruffians, from 
three to half-a-dozen in number, while others 
declared it was one man only, who worked 
alone and had a marvellous quick finger on a 
trigger. For want of knowing his real name, 
folk had taken to calling this mysterious 
ringleader " Black jack," because of the crape 
mask he always wore when operating. Hardly 
a week passed but some poor devil, with 
clean pockets and a hole in him, was found 
lying dead on the roadside, till the people 
began to get mortal sick with the monotony 
of it Vigilantes and Sheriff's posses had 


lit out after the 
fellow many's the 
time, but they'd 
always come traip- 
sing back without 
so much as catch- 
ing sight of him + 
He was a " holy 
terror," no mis- 
take about it As 
yet, however, he'd 
never been seen 
so far south as 
Canovas County. 
"Talkin 1 of 
road-age n ts," 
Cousin Jude re- 
marked, " I was 
hearin 1 tell of 
Black Jack bein* 
on the hold-up 
nigh to Pine Flats 
the other day. 
Shouldn't be sur- 
prised if he 
doesn't pay us a 
visit in thishyer 
district 'fore long 
now. Lordy, but 
I hope he'll not 
trouble us this 
trip, anyway ! n 

11 An* why not 
— why not?" 
Hans Drecht 
jerked out, high 
and sharp. " Cal 
c'late he'd find 
he'd routed out a 
hornet's nest ef he did ! " 

"Jude was alludin' to the dollars among 
us, probly," explained Mr. Push, quiet-like. 
" He 'lows cz any road-agent would get a big 
haul ef he did happen to waltz in an' bail 
us up to-day ," 

11 Dollars I " cried Deacon Butt, his hand 
going up smart to his breast-pocket " What 
dollars? 11 

"Ah, I see you're treasurer this time, 
Deacon," laughed the Sheriff, noting the 
sudden movement. " No offence, of course ! 
On T y Jude guessed one or other of you'd be 
carryin' weight. Ez men of sense an' expe- 
rience, we all know thet votes an T dollars 
'pear to sorter draw one another, somehow. 
Somebody's hands must bring 'em together, 
hey? Jude didn't mean any nastiness, I'll 
answer for it. No, no ; we Ye all agreed 
business is business ■ an' I'm not denyin* him 




an' me mayn't be well primed with kopecks 
ourselves. Truth, I'd rut her myself that Black 
Jack tackled us some other day, ef he ever 
does at all ! n 

Hans Dreeht snorted in scorn at these 
sentiments. Here was a chance of taking a 
rise out of his opponent ! 

u Mighty plucky words, them— for a 
Sheriff!" he growled. "A man sworn to 
uphold the laws of his country an* pertert the 
lives an' property of its peaceful citizens ! 
Quf f it makes me tired to hear it ! Now, 
when I'm elected Sheriff " 

*' When ! " repeated Mr. Push, serene as a 
lamb. " Wal, I dun no. You ain't Sheriff 
yet, ! t all events, the best man win T say 
I. Ef I'm to be licked, I guess III take my 
lickin* like a man — standi n* up*" 

" When I'm elected "Sheriff," Hans 

went on, not heeding the interruption, " I 
reckon I won't start in to pick an' choose 
days with no sech low-down scum ez Black 
Jack. Thishyer's no time for pusillanimous 
fears, with the cannons of the foreign foe 
boomin' at our gates " 

"To howlin' blazes with your cannons!" 
shouted Jude, in a tearing mge. ** We don't 
ask for no speeches now. You'd best keep 
all that blame slush to fire off at the confer- 
ence, I'm think! nV 

But there was no holding in Hans now ; 
he'd got fair blown out so that he must 
either rant or burst. 

M Let Black Jack come along 
wherever he likes, hell find me 
thar to take him for a frozen cer- 
tainty. First thing, when I yet into 
office, Til fit out a reg'lar expedi- 
tion to foller an 5 arrest 
him, dead or alive," 

il You !" rasped the 
Sheriff. "Why, 'twas 
you daresn't even 
volunteer when I led 
a posse after thet hoss- 
thief, on'y last fall." 

" An* why didn't I 
— why didn't I?" stut 
tered Hans, red in the 
face, C| You, ez engi- 
neered the silly con- 
snrn — you ask me 
why ? B J gosh ! 
Listen hyre, an 1 I'll 
soon tell you why ! Jt 

But he never did ; 
for before you could 
have said " knife, " a 
man on a sorrel mare 

jumped out from the trees edging the road, a 
revolver in each of his fists. 

" Pull up thar ! " he roared out. £( An' 
throw up your hands ! Sharp, now ! "' 

The fellow's crape mask put a name on 
him ; and they all knew it would mean 
somebody's funeral if they tried to monkey 
with Black Jack, Four pairs of arms went 
straight up together, like soldiers drilling, 
and hung there. The fifth pair would have 
done the same if the owner of them, Hans 
Dreeht, hadn't cowered back on his seat just 
as the nags were reined in ; the sudden stop 
and jerk thresv him clean off his perch, so 
that he toppled over the tail-board on to the 
track. In a jiffy lied scuttled for shelter 
underneath the wheels. Black Jack covered 
him with one of his weapons. 

" Out you skip, rotyer I " he yelled, savage- 
like. u We want no dum acrobatics hyer ! 
Out you come, or Til dose you with cold lead ! ' T 

Hans crawled out into the open, his face 
while as milk, his teeth chattering like 

"Don't shoot, mister! "he snivelled, half 

by Google 

i-r siipot, MisT©rit]ima'|ir|ppsMtt>-" 


22 I 


dead with sheer funk. " r I ake every dollar 
I've got. Hyer 'tis — down to my last cent. 
Point thet pistol ofTn my head. I — I give 
you best ; an' thars nary a gun on me/' 

11 You ain't heeled, hey?" the agent 
chuckled. "Jes'as well for you vou ain't! 
Set the silver down thar, whar you .scan' 
grovel! in' — so ! Now, mebbe you'll lend a 
hand to unload your friends. Climb up an r 
run through them systematic for me, Kirst, 
feel for shootiii'-irons.' 1 

Hans did as he was ordered. From each 
man's hip pocket he lugged a *' 45," which 
he tossed overside into the road ; then 
he began to search them for cash. lie 
started with Jude Willis, cleaning him out 
and passing on to Deacon Butt, who had 
been twisting his face into all manner of 
shapes, screwing up his eyes mumbling and 
grunting like a stuffed hog. 

"What's it he wants, matey?" asked Black 
Jack, seeing the whole pantomime. "Say, 
what is it ? " 

" I think — he— he'd ruther I didn't 
through his breast-pocket.'' 

" Harkee to me, pard, Vm trustin' in 
you to be a credit to my teach in 1 , an 5 
onless you git a move on you an' nose 
out every dolgarned cent, you 11 be 
figurin* at the head of your own obsequies 
before you know you're 
dead meat ! " 

That was enough for 
Hans Drceht Groping 
with a shaky hand inside 
the coat of his Chairman 
of Committee, he pulled 
out a leather wallet, 
bulging over with green- 
backs. Now, for a can- 
didate to aid and abet 
in the looting of his own 
party treasure-chest — not 
to buy votes that is, but 
simply at the bidding and 
for the benefit of a black- 
guard highwayman — was 
just about the shadiest thing 
he could stoop to. By this 
time Hans's supporters were 
thoroughly disgusted win 
their champion, They took 
no stock in circumstances, 
made no allowances, could see no 
excuse whatever — for him. 

When Hans had got to this low 
level in the eyes of his committee 
men Mr. Sheriff Tush seemed to 
wake up to what was happening, 

Whether it was he'd been struck dazed with 
the unexpectedness of it all till then, or 
whether he perhaps concluded he was next 
on the schedule for plundering, I won't 
pretend to say. Any rate, be pulled his wits 
together and gave tongue, 

" Losh, but I think this hyer racket's lasted 
long enough ! " he shouted, fearful mad. 
^ Are five live men to be bulldozed an' held 
up by one blame road-agent ? By gum, no '. 
Ef some folk's got no more back- spine ! n 
they need, it sha'n't be said Joshua K* Push 
ever lick-spittled an J knuckled under to a 
tarnation thief." 

"Shut off your jaw tackle, right thar!" 
Blackjack yelped back. " Tve no time to 
waste listeniiV to chin-wag now* Besides/' 
and he squinted at the revolvers by the road- 
side, ft besides, I reckon I hold all the tricks 
in my own hand." 

11 Not much— you don't ! " the Sheriff 
snapped out. 

Quick as a flash his right arm went up T 
with a pistol at the end of it. 

The two irons barked out together, but 
both shots missed their 
man. At the noise of the 
firing the road agent's 
scared branch set to 
kicking and splaying up 
so as to buck its rider 
out of the saddle and 
send him sprawling to 
the ground. Before he 
could get on his legs he 
had three men all over 


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him and a raw-hide twisted round his wrists. 
His mask had slipped off in the scuffle, and 
although none of them had ever seen Black 
Jack before, they one and all declared he 
looked a pesky gallows-bird to the life — just 
the image of what they'd always pictured 
him in their own minds to be. Only 
Sheriff Push knew the truth, and it wasn't 
likely he'd give the show away. 

I daresay you yourself, sir, have guessed 
long since who the party really was? Yes, 
it was me ! — me, Ben Powell — in the 
character I'd agreed with the Sheriff to play. 
Unfortunately, owing to the skittishness of 
my mare, the whole performance had come 
an awful mucker. Every minute it was 
getting more complicated and jumbled-up 
than I, for one, had ever bargained for— a 
sorry sight too tangled and risky for my 
comfort. But even then I didn't realize the 
full danger of the scrape I was in, as you'll 
see presently for yourself. 

" Now, you durn coward, gimme back 
my wallet ! " said Deacon Butt, turning 
fiercely on Hans Drecht ; soon as he'd 
pouched it again, he crossed over to Mr. 

"Sheriff," said he. "I go back on the 

opinion I've had of you up to now. You're 

*a man, sir— a bang-up hero this day ! An' 

I'd be highly privileged ef you'd jes' only 


" An' hyer's mine," the other committee- 
man put in. " Sheriff, shake ! " And they 

"Thar's no two electors I'm gladder to 
earn the respect of," said Push, in his best 
F.F.V. manner. " Mebbe it's my own 
fault I'm not easy understood. I 'low my 
modesty won't let me spread myself out and 
parade my virtues. No, 'tain't my natur'. 
But you kin take it from me, without boastin', 
that it'll be a dull day with Joshua K. Push 
wben he hasn't something up his sleeve to 
recommend him." 

In this case, as he explained, the article 
" up his sleeve " had been a second revolver. 

After they'd quit complimenting the Sheriff 
and one another— wonderful civil and polite 
all round — all, that is, except Hans Drecht, 
who stood to one side, chewing his finger- 
nails — they began to debate what they'd best 
do with the prisoner. 

At the end of their confab I was faced in 
the direction of Probity Springs and told to 
step out brisk, Jude Willis walking on my 
right with a loaded pistol, and the second 
committee-man riding alongside on the screw 
that had thrown me. With these two as 

Digitized by \*i 

escort I was marched along the road until 
we came to the place where the buggy had 
been overturned. Meanwhile, the driver 
had managed to tinker and fix up the wheel, 
so that the ramshackle conveyance could be 
again used. I was hoisted into it, and Jude 
flopped into a seat opposite me ; but the 
committee-man, concluding there'd be enough 
keepers to take care of me without him, 
wheeled his horse round and galloped back 
to catch up with the Sheriff. If it could be 
helped, he said, he wouldn't miss the meet- 
ing at Lotusville that afternoon not for a 
million dollars ! 

An hour later I was carted into the prison- 
yard at Probity Springs, untrussed, and 
locked in one of the cells. I couldn't 
grumble at the quarters they'd given me, the 
room being tolerably big, furnished with a 
deal table, a chair, and a bench-bed ; a fair- 
sized iron-barred window looked out on the 
exercise-yard. But what did surprise me 
more than a trifle was the smoking-hot dinner 
of pie, vegetables, and fried dough-nuts 
which the warder afterwards brought in and 
set on the table. 

"Somethin' to be goin' on with, matey," 
said he, cackling and grinning as if he'd 
hatched a side-splitting joke. "Jes' you 
holler ef you've a hankerin' for anythin' else, 
an' I'll be sure to 'tend to it slick away. We 
always make a point of humorin' a man's 
appetite 'fore we turns him off final. See ? 
Cr— r— rk!" 

Still nodding and blinking like a china 
ornament, he locked the door on me again 
and went shuffling off down the corridor. 
His playful hint at what was in store for me 
didn't put me off my feed, however, and 
after I'd had a capital tuck-in I sat back in 
the chair to think over my position. 

No mistake, it was a deuced tight corner I 
was in. I tramped up and down the floor 
for hours, trying to hit on some plan to save 
my neck ; but it was all no use. What could 
I do? Later on, when it came to being 
judged and juried, I might make shift to 
prove I wasn't really Black Jack at all ; still, 
with the book-oaths of four independent 
witnesses against me — leaving the Sheriff out 
of count altogether — it would be impossible 
to convince any sane man that I had not 
been doing a little road-agenting on my own 
hook. If I attempted to show that Mr. 
Push was in the swim with me from the 
beginning, everybody would simply choke 
with smiling. The queer tale, as I now 
quite saw, v^ould not hold water for a minute 

1 1 -» i ii 




in a court-house- Whichever way you looked 
at it, mine was a precious thin ease* 

The afternoon had gone, and darkness was 
settling down, when my attention was drawn 
to a dull humming noise outside, faint and 
far-off at first, but growing nearer and louder 
every second. I crossed over to the window 
to listen. Although the prison 
walls kept me from prying an 
inch beyond them, it was not long 
before I tumbled to what the 
whote thing meant The rumbling 
din broke up into separate sounds 

- the clatter of scores of 
feet, the yells of angry 
men, the clashing of 
sticks and staves against 
wood and metal. Now 
and again 1 caught a 
word or two that made 
my blood run cokL 

" Swing him up ! — 
Plugged my brother ! — 
Lynch — lynch the all- 
fired scoundrel ! " 

It was a wild mob of 
loggers and roustabouts, 
mad with liquor and 
rage, come to hammer 
down the prison gates 
and dangle me up to 
the nearest tree ! Each 
fresh whack on the big 
gates brought my heart 
thumping up into my 
mouth, and made every 
muscle in me go limp 
and flabby as a wet 
string, I don't deny it 

— I had a terrible fit of 
the creeps just then. 

All of a sudden the 
savage roar changed to 
a tremendous cheer- I 
wondered, and half- 
dreaded, what was coming next. But, 
no! the gate held firm as a rock, and the 
yard below still lay bare and empty. When 
the cheering had calmed down a hit one 
mans voice began to speak. As before, I 
overheard here a scrap and there a scrap of 
what was said. 

"My duty ez Sheriff of thishyer county 
. , , Stickler for justice an* order myself * , . 
fair trial ef he is a dolgarn villain * . ♦ then 
you kin sling him up with clean hands . « • 
public conscience is fearful tetchy nowadays 
■ - . but, fellow-citizens, a waggon -load of 
lawyers choppin 1 logic won't save him then 3 " 

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Another round of applause followed the 
Sheriffs remarks, which must have led the 
rioters to alter their minds and go home in 
peace. At any rate, I heard no more of 
them, and there were no further attacks on 
the prison gates. I breathed more freely 
again — bet your life, I did ! 

Something like an 
hour afterwards a font- 
step echoed down the 
outer passage, the key 
squeaked in the lock p 
and Sheriff Push him- 
self swaggered into the 

11 Jes now, out thar ! " 
said he, jerking his thumb 
towards the street li You 
heard 'em? Great Hokey, 
but ef I hadn't nipped 
back from Lotusville 
soon's ever the confer- 
ence broke up they'd 
have had you out an' 
swayed up before now, 
Durn fortnit' for you I'm 
so poplar an' persuasive with 
the boys, sence this morning 
anyway ! * 

"Rut it's another thing's 
troubling me now/' I cut in, 
li sing jiatience with the man. 
u First and foremost, Td ask 
you to tell me — — " 

"'Uout the meeting hey? 
Course, I mi^ht have known 
you'd be interested in thet ! T * 
he answered, quickly. " Wal, 
I dun no how 'twas, but less'n 
half an hour after we got 
inter Lotus vi lie seemed like ez 
every man, woman, an 3 chick 
thar had heard all 'bout the 
road-a^ent business, A to Z. 
The nieetiir hall was crammed 
out with excited electors, jam full The 
way they whoo|>ed an' cheered me when I 
got outer my hind legs — Aw, thar! you'd say 
I was eat up with conceitiness ef I was to tell 
you half. Never was sech an ovation in 
thishyer county before, I lay— never ! The 
hull township was solid for me- I could see 
thet with a blind eye. An' I felt proud — 
mighty sot up, sir ] Deacon Butt spoke after 
me, praisin' me no end, an' windin* up by 
declarm 5 he'd see himself sizzlin' in blue 
blazes 'fore ever he'd vote for any sech white- 
livered trash ez Hans Pucht shown he 
was, Thet brought Hans up in dumb show, 




for the crowd wouldn't listen, hut rose on 
him in a swarm, howlirT an' cusstii' till 
you ? d thought it was a blizzard let loose. 
Guess they'd have wiped the platform with 
him an 1 wrecked the circus ef he hadn't 
slipped out by the back exit, I was tickled 
to death. Him for Sheriff? Ho— ho ! They'd 
no more run him now'n they would a store- 
clothes drummer from Chicago, or a " 

" I daresay it's all turned out very satis- 
factory for you," I interrupted, sharply. "But 
what about me?" 

11 Oh, I'm cumin' to 
you/' said he, hump- 
ing his shoulders. 
" Mebbe you'll re~ 
member I warned you 
thar was risks ? ,3 

"But you never 
gave me a chance ! " 
I cried, indignantly. 
"The idea wasn't to 
arrest me at all, but 
to let me skip clear 
away after you'd done 
the rescuing-hero 

** An' was it my 
fault you bungled it ? 
Gosh, no, I grant 
Cousin Jude oughter 
been more thoughtful, 
an 7 picked you out a 
boss ez wouldn't be .— * 
skeared by guns,. But 
then he j edged you'd 
a firmer grip in a 
saddled you have 
really. Thet's how ! 
Same time, you must 
see it made the roud- 
agcntiiV look more 
natVaMike — ez ef it 
hadn't been all map- 
ped out beforehand 
Besides, I shouldn't 

have had quarter so much credit for it ef 
you'd wriggled clean away. An' thar's 
another thing. Whar'd my reputation be, ef 
Td emptied my Colt at a hoss an' rider, 
scarce ten yards away, an* yet never got 
home with a single bead? Come, now, 
Britisher^ do be reasonable I" 

" Reason go hang ! n I shouted, in a 
passion. " You must own you haven't 
done the square thing by me. A bargain's 
a bargain all the world over," 

li 'Nough said ! I'm not goin f back on 
my word. No, sir! You took over all the 

risks ; I on'y agreed to do the payin 1 . Thar f s 
five hundred dollars due to you when Tm 
re-elected Sheriff Thet amounts to come — 
mebbe — ef you're livin 1 then, But Vm 
willin 1 to be generous, an' advance a hundred 
dollars now for to-day *s w T ork." 

He slapped a roll of notes on the table in 
front of me. 

" Twenty fives ! ' J said he, il Count 'em ! " 
I refused to touch the 
money. That was not 

l-l M.M'l-FL) A H I r. . .:■ MOTHS ON I ML TAW E. 

by LiOOgLC 

what I'd meant, as he knew full well. 
Although he was perhaps sticking to the 
strict letter of our agreement, he had broken 
it in the spirit lon^ ago, My temper got the 
better of me* There and then I let him 
have the rough side of my tongue, telling 
him what I thought of him and his trickery, 
and what other people would probably think 
when Pd had my say in open court. 

4t Now you're talkin 1 foolishness," he said* 
sharp and snappy. " I thought you was 
white all through. But ef you're threatin' to 
throw me down — wal t I reckon two kin play 




thet game. The jury to swallow a one-legged 
yarn like yourn ain't born yet Why, it don't 
stand to common sense, nohow. Weren't 
you caught on the bail-up, red-fisted, anyway ? 
How'll you git over thet? It's more'n you 
could do in a year of Sundays. No ; I 'low 
you'd best jes' let matters rub along 'thout 
worryin' yourself about it. The boys'd take 
a sight more pains to honour the 'casion, 
thinkin' 'twas Black Jack they was assistin' 
to switch off, 'n ef they knew 'twas on'y an 
ornery tenderfoot amateur. Both them an' 
you'd be better pleased with the style of the 
ceremony. Now, jes' you weigh it up thet 
way. Figure out for yourself how high 
an' proud Black Jack'd have felt, supposin' 
he'd been the important party boxed up hyer 
instead of you — an' try to pattern yourself 
on him accordin'." 

14 Don't drivel at me, man ! " I roared. 
44 I'd as lief copy your example as Black 
Jack's, in anything." 

44 Then I guess you'd fall 'bout ez far short 
of the sample in one case ez you did, a few 
hours back, in the other," he barked' tack. 
44 No ; you an' Black Jack ain't built in the 
same block, sir. It's a pity, mebbe — for 
you. Black Jack wouldn't have set whinin' 
an' squirmin' thar, waitin' fer miracles to 
come along — leastways not before he'd tried 
all he knew 'thout hollerin' on Providence to 
help him out of a hole." 

The Sheriffs bony face was solemn and 
flint-hard when I looked up at him, but 
I fancied I could see the ghost of a grin 
still dancing round the corners of his 

• 44 It gits over me what possessed Cousin 
Jude an' Officer Ray to fix you up in thishyer 
partic'lar shanty," said he, throwing his eyes 
round the place. 4t They'd oughter known 
'taint good enough to hold a desperate 
hoodlum like Black Jack. He'd be outside 
it in less'n a twinkle, I lay. But with you 
it's different. Yes, I'll grant it's strong 
enough for you, seein' you're innocent an' 
dead stuck on provin' it in a court of law. 
You'd scorn to break loose even ef the way 
was clear. Ain't that so ? Now, it sorter 
relieves my mind, ez Sheriff, to hear you talk 
like thet. I feel's we kin chat confidential 
now, 'thout you layin' to take advantage of 
ariythin' I may happen to say. Thet's whar 
you're 'most altogether different from Black 
Jack agin. He would ! " 

I began to have a dim notion of what the 
man was driving at. If it suited him to keep 
up the farce of having a rag of conscience 
left— especially with me, after all that had 

Vol. xx.— 29. 

passed between us — I saw no great harm in 
humoring his whimsies for my own benefit. 
So I took my cue from him, fast enough 

44 But I don't see how Black Jack could 
possibly escape." 

44 1 dessay not ! But ted see, mighty soon 
too ! One thing, he'd have found out whether 
the window bars wasn't loose or rusted thin. 
It's scarce a six-foot drop inter the 
yard below. Shouldn't wonder, neither, ef 
he didn't light on a ladder lyin' under the far 
wall — most keerlessly left thar by the men 
who're new-shinglin' the roof. Black Jack'd 
think it nice an' handy for climbin' over." 

44 But he'd be seen or heard by the warders, 
wouldn't he ? " 

44 Mebbe thar'd be nobody on patrol but 
Dick Ray — an' he's a terrible hard sleeper, is 
Dick. Why, when he was promisin' me his 
vote jes' now he owned up to one great 
failin' ez a watcher — he kin't keep his eyelids 
shored open a minute after midnight, nohow. 
I don't blame him myself, for, after all, it's 
plump agin human natur' !" 

44 You're right, Mr. Sheriff," I said, 
friendly as you please again. "And I 
suppose he won't make any extra effort to 
stay awake to-night?" 

14 Mph ! Like ez not, he won't ! " 

44 Now, going back to Black Jack," I 
added. 44 Once clear of the prison, I 
warrant he'd feel safer if he could put 
twenty or thirty miles between him and 
Probity Springs before daylight." 

44 1 'low he'd show sense ef he did. Yes, 
he'd be wise to borrow a hoss, too — some 
sech animal ez the chestnut bronch I saw, 
ready saddled an' bridbd, hitched up to the 
shed back of Sanders's saw-mill hyer, same 
place whar you found your nng this mornin'. 
Curious thing, but thet bronch looks oncom- 
mon like one belongin' ter Cousin Jude. Ef 
anybody loaned it, Jude would think it right- 
down kind for them to turn the brute loose 
agin in the first meadow this side of Lotus- 
ville. Jude lives on the ranch thar, you 
know. I'm purty sure it's one of his ponies ; 
they're always strayin'." 

Crossing the floor I gripped the Sheriff's 
hand and shook it warmly. 

fc4 1 apologize for every word I spoke 
against you just now, Mr. Push. Fact is, 
I'm not bred up to your level of honour yet, 
and my bad temper cropped out before I'd 
sized up the many difficulties of your official 
position. But I think I quite understand 
now. Nobody can rob you of the glory of 
having arrested \ dangerous criminal single- 




handed -whether he afterwards escaped or 
not. That would not be your fault, at all 
events. They couldn't expect you to stop in 
the penitentiary here, day and night, to keep 
guard over him yourself." 

*' Thet's so ! Ez Sheriff, of course, I'd be 
real mad to hear he'd slipped away agin ; 
but speakin' ex a plain, ornery individual, Td 
think him a lunatic fool ef 
he saw an openin' an 1 
didn't jump for it. Hows* 
ever, this has got nothin 1 
to do with your case— you 
bein* fixed on standi n p your 
trial, hey, now ? Wal, I 
on'y hope the boys won't 
step in an' spoil it, Thet's 
all An' now I'd advise 
you to turn on a happy 
dream or two to-night; 
you mayn't have another 
chance. So long, Britisher 
- — so long." 

There's little else to tell. 
Near about midnight, as 
well as I could judge the 
hour, I set to work on the 
window - bars, heaving and 
tugging till 1 had them 
all out. Bless you, it was 
as easy as kiss your hand. 
You'd think they'd been 
stuck in the sockets with 
putty. Lowering myself 
from the sill into the yard, 
I shinned up the ladder 
and over the wall, and 
within a quarter of am hour 
was galloping full pelt down 
the road to Lotusville. At 
Jude Willis's stock farm I 
tied up the horse to a fence 
rail and walked on to the 
Union Pacific depot. There 
I boarded the first train 
going east, and three weeks 
later 1 stepped ashore at 

Did I ever hear any- 
thing more of the Sheriff? 
Perhaps a month or so after my return 
home he wrote to the address I'd left 
with him, sending a draft for four hundred 
dollars on the London agents of the Idaho 



I did, sir, 

Bank. On the strength of that wind- 
fall Jennie and me gut married and came 
into the lt Blue Bell " here. Considering 
what a slippery joker Mr. Push was, I'd never 
thought to pocket another led cent from 
him : you could have bowled me over with a 
feather when the money came* I have his 
letter put away in a drawer upstairs now. If 
you'd care to read it I'll 

just run up Half a 

minute, sir ! 

At this juncture in his 
reminiscences mine host of 
the "Blue Bell" hastened 
out of the bar- parlour, re- 
entering presently with the 
resourceful Sheriff's letter 
Hereunder I transcribe 
it :— 

" Dear and Honoured 
Sir,— Your smart and in- 
genious Plan of Election 
Campaigning has just rushed 
me into the Sheriffship again 
on greased wheels, and at 
the head of the biggest 
Plurality ever polled in this 
County. It has made me 
the most cried-up official 
in the whole Slate, So 
popular I've become that 
the electors talk of running 
me for Congress next term. 
I'm a mighty poor hand at 
scrawling my Feelings on 
paper, and I won't try to 
more than thank you now* 
Before any thanks of mine, 
maybe you'd prefer yourself 
the little Check I'm mailing 
along with this writing. It's 
the quittance Balance of 
our Account, as per Agree- 
ment. If it proves to you 
that I'm a man of high- 
tone principle and sound 
moral grip I'm well satis- 
fied. Yes, sir ; if there's 
one thing I'm proud of more than another 
it is to feel that them who stand by me 
can always depend on being stood by, 
wh^n the pinch comes, by — Joshua K. 

by Google 

Original from 

Secrets of the Zoo. 

By Albert R Broadwelu 


surgeon by special appoint- 
ment, dentist, pedicure, p.nd 
every -other- cure is he who 
W^^ll presides over the destinies of 
FC^^-^ fj t j lc thousand and one wild 
creatures confined in that wonderfully or- 
ganized institution, the Zoo, 

The life of the Superintendent at the Zoo 
is much like that of a dozen Harley Street 
specialists, with the 
difference that his 
patients are dumb 
creatures gathered 
from every imagin- 
able corner of the 
globe, From the 
Arctic to the 
Equator, and from 
the Equator to the 
Antarctic, they are 
either bought by 
the Society or pre- 
sented by its friends 
and well - wishers. 
They are curious, 
fearful, and delicate. 
Their every little 
wish has to be met ; 
the very tempera- 
ture of their respec- 
tive abodes must, 
in the heart of 
London, be regu- 
lated as nearly as 
possible to that of 
their natural haunts* 
Their food, their 
surroundings, their 

indoor and outdoor habits, have to be studied 
at all hours of the day and night. 

In an extremely interesting book, lately 
issued by Messrs. Chapman and Hall, Mr, 
lid ward Bartlett, son of Mr. Abraham Dee 
Bartlett, late Superintendent of the Zoo, 
relates his father's experiences, and we have 
gathered from his knowledge of the subject 
many interesting glimpses of Zoo life as 
seen u from behind the lions' den," From 
an early age the late Mr. Bartlett took more 
than an ordinary interest in all matters con- 
cerned with natural history. 

Mr, Bartlett and Frank Buckland, the 
famous naturalist, were intimate friends. In 

Digitized -by Ijt 


Prom a i'toto, by S/tnry Goodwin* Etq. \taktn m flW\ 

his reminiscences Mr. Bartlett's son says : 
"I know of none who possessed a more 
amiable, good -tempered, and kinder dispo- 
sition than Frank Buckland. Of this I had 
many opportunities of judging, having on 
several occasions accompanied him on his 
duties as Inspector of Salmon Fisheries. I 
can recollect an instance m point. 

14 A monster lobster was once forwarded 
to Buckland's house while he was away 

inspecting salmon 
rivers. Mrs. Buck- 
land, not wishing 
this fine lobster to 
be spoiled by keep- 
ing, invited a few 
friends to supper, 
The beautiful crea- 
ture was duly 
cracked up, and so 
far disposed of. 

"On Buckhmd's 
return he inquired 
for the lobster, a 
letter having been 
forwarded to him 
requesting that the 
shell might be care- 
fully prepared and 
saved- His dismay 
may be imagined 
upon hearing of the 
lobster's fate* 
Laughing heartily, 
however, he had 
the dust-heap 
searched and every 
fragment of the lob- 
ster-shell carefully 
collected ; these he very cleverly put together, 
producing a very fair model of an almost 
unique specimen. 55 

Upon another occasion, at a party con- 
sisting of three or four mutual friends, Mrs, 
Buckland being present, the conversation 
turned on the subject of the destruction 
of under- sized crabs, which were exposed lor 
sale in large quantities, and it was decided 
by Frank Buckland that he would, as in- 
spector, go round the town in the morning in 
order to summon the various dealers for 
olTering under-sized crabs for sale. Mrs, 
Buckland, becoming aware of the proposed 
inspection proceedings, determined, with her 




usual kindness of heart, to help these poor 
people in their threatened exposure. 

She rose early next morning, went round 
to the market-place, and cautioned the dealers, 
telling them that Mr. Frank Buckland would, 
in all probability* pay them a visit of inspec- 
tion* It is needless to add that when he paid 
his contemplated visits he found that all the 
under-sized crabs had disappeared ; he was 
immensely pleased, and made a great boast 
as to how well the standing order had been 
obeyed. The mirth of Frank Buckland and 
his party when, at the breakfast-table, Mrs, 
Buckland related how she had risen early 
and forestalled all her husband's intentions 
may well be left to the imagination of the 

Mr. Bartlett's actual experiences of his 
superintendence at the Zoo make attractive 
reading, and we will give, in his own words, 
some instances of the difficulties and dangers 
that are to be met with in the handling of 
the wild denizens of the forest and the 
prairie. The various incidents, as narrated 
by himself in his notes, are stirring and 
amusing in turn. 

It is no child's play to perform the 
operation of cutting off the talons of a 
lion or a tiger, for it must be remembered 
that these creatures in captivity have 
but little oppor- 
tunity of sharpen- 
ing and shortening 
their claws, as they 
w^ould do in their 
native wilds. When 
the operation be- 
comes necessary, 
however, the un- 
fortunate creature 
of course resists 
with all his might, 
and, by reason of 
his great strength 
and activity, be- 
comes very danger- 
ous* The keepers 
catch both front 
feet of the animal 
in straps that have 
a slip-knot; the 
tighter these are 
pulled the more 
firmly the feet can 
be held and drawn 

forward between the bars of tiie cage. The 
operator, armed with a pair of sharp cutting 
nippers, accomplishes the operation and 
gives the relief required. Whilst undergoing 

Digitized by W 

this operation the animal generally bites the 
iron bars, with considerable danger to bis 
teeth. In order to prevent this, how- 
ever, one of the attendants is provided with 
a long pole or bar of wood, which he thrusts 
in front of the animal's mouth ; the wood 
selected being soft, naturally prevents any 
injury to the teeth. 

It is curious to note, by the way, that the 
skin of a Hon or tiger is so tough that the 
claws of either are sometimes broken off, 
or even completely torn out, when fighting. 

As space forbids us to go any farther into 
the lion and tii.',e:* stories, which are plentiful, 
we will hear what Mr. Uartlett has to say of 
that famous wolf adventure which took place 
close upon midnight. 

He narrates it as follows : — 

"My instructions to the night-watchman 
were, 'never to ring the hou*e bell during 
the night,' because it not only aroused all 
the family, but, if it rang, they at once knew 
that something was wrong. If* hcw„v?r. he 
had occasion to call me, he was to threw a 
handful of gravel at my bedroom window, 
and I would at once attend to him* 

"Accordingly one dark night the gravel 
striking the glass of my window caused me 
to look out. 

" ' A black wolf is loose in the garden/ 
suid one of the keepers. 

" * I will be with you 
directly/ was my reply, 

" Not many minutes 
afterwards I found that 
the wolf had crouched 
in a corner near the 





Polar bear's den. By turning on the watch- 
man' 3 bull's- eye lantern we soon caught 
sight of him, his bright eyes looking with a 
green glare at the light, ' Keep the light 
full on his face/ was my order to the watch- 
man, ' and come slowly forward* I will 
creep sideways up to him, and, if I can get a 
good hold, I think we can manage him.' 

ih While the animal was staring at the light 
I seized him by the neck, and with the 
prompt aid of my two assistants we safely 
caged him for the night," 

What a wonderful man Mr- Bartlett must 
have been ! It seems strange to hear 
anyone saying, in plain, businesslike 
language, and talk- 
ing of a wolf, too, 
"1 seized him by 
the neck . * . and 
we safely caged 
him for the night!" 
How many of the 
thousands of visi 
tors to the Zoo 
would ever attempt 
such a feat, for a 
feat of daring it 
undoubtedly is* 

It is interesting 
to note that the 
first elephant that 
ever came immedi- 
ately under Mr, 
Bartlett's charge 
was the celebrated 

Jumbo. On the "we admin istrred a 4oqd thrashing. 


subject of Jumbo Mr. Bartlett says : "The 
African elephant, Jumbo, was received in 
exchange for other animals on June 26th, 1865. 
was about 4ft. high, and 
he was in a filthy 
and miserable 
condition* I 
handed him over 
to Matthew Scott, 
who, I thought, 
was the most 
likely man to 
attend to my 
because he 
had no pre- 
vious experi- 
ence In the 
treat ment 
and manage- 
ment of ele- 
phants, The 
first thing 
was to endeavour to remove the accumulated 
filth and dirt from his skin. This was a task 
requiring a considerable amount of labour and 
patience. His feet, for want of attention, had 
grown out of shape, but by scraping and 
rasping their condition rapidly improved. 
Jumbo soon became very frolicsome, however, 
and began to play some very lively tricks, so 
much so that we found it necessary to put 
a stop to his gambols ; this we accomplished 
in a very speedy and effectual manner. 

44 Scott and myself, holding him one by 
each ear, administered a good thrashing. He 

quickly recog- 
nised that he 




was mastered, by lying down and uttering 
a cry of submission. We coaxed htm 
and fed him with a few tempting morsels* 
and he ever after appeared to recognise 
that we were his best friends, and he 
lived with us on the best of terms until 
about a year before he was sold. He 
was at that time about twenty - one years 
old, and had attained the enormous size of 
nearly lift, in height. At that age, how- 
ever, elephants as a rule become trouble- 
some and dangerous* jumbo, not to be out- 
done, destroyed the doors and other parts of 
his house, driving his tusks through the iron 
plates, and splintering the timber in all direc- 
tions, rendering it necessary to have the house 
propped up (as it still remains) with massive 
timber beams. When in this condition and 
in his house none of the keepers except 
Scott dared go near 
him ; but, strange to 
say, the animal be- 
came perfectly quiet 
as soon as he was 
allowed to be free in 
the Gardens. 

"It was during his 
fits of temporary in- 
sanity that Jumbo 
broke both his tusks 
by driving them 
I h rough the ironwork 
of his den ; they 
broke off inside his 
mouth, probably 
close to his upper 

M As the tusks of 
elephants continue 
to grow throughout 
the whole of the 
animal's life, Jumbos 
tusks accordingly 
grew again, pushing 
forward the broken 
jagged ends ; but 
instead of protrud- 
ing in the usual 
way from under the 
upper lip, they grew 
somewhat upwards 
in his mouth, and 
in the course of time it was observed that 
they were forcing their way through the skin 
not far below his eyes, The result of this 
was an abscess on each side of the face, 

" Upon my going to him,'* says the late 
Superintendent, " he would allow me to put 
my hand upon these swellings, and appeared 

Digitized by Google 

by the motion of his trunk to indicate the 
seat or cause of his suffering. I therefore 
determined to cut through the thick skin in 
order to discharge the accumulated pus and 
enable the tusks to grow out of this opening. 
In order to accomplish this I had a steel 
rod made, about iSin. in length, formed with 
a sharp hook at the end, the hook being 
flattened on the inner edge as sharp as a 

** With this instrument Scott, the keeper, 
and I entered the den, having previously 
fastened the doors of the house to prevent 
anyone entering and disturbing our pro- 
ceedings, as I was fearful that the noise 
made by the other keepers would alarm our 
patient or cause him to be restless. Standing 
under his lower jaw and passing the instru- 
ment above the swollen part, 1 hooked it fast 
into the skin, cutting it 
through with a sharp pull 
The gash produced a most 
frightful discharge of very 
offensive mattter ; the giant 
uttered a loud shriek and 
rushed from 
us, bleeding, 
shaking, and 
but, strange 
to say, with- 
out showing 
any signs of 
anger. After 
a little coax- 
ing and talk- 
i n g to he 
allowed us to 
wash out the 
w ound b y 
syringing it 
with water. 
"On the following 
morning we deter- 
mined to operate 
upon the other al> 
sress on the opposite 
side* We had, how- 
ever, some misgiving 
as to the result of 
our second attempt 
to operate upon him, 
but, to our intense surprise, Jumbo stood 
still. He seemed to await the second cut 
with pleasure and fearful anticipation in one, 
though the sudden pull caused him to start 
and give another cry like the one he uttered 
the day before. The improvement in the 
animals condition after these two operations 





was most remarkable : the tusks soon made 
their appearance, growing through the aper- 
tures that had been cut fur the discharge of 
the abscesses instead of coming out under 
the upper lip, or, under ordinary circum- 
stances, their proper place." 

Of adventure with rhinoceroses Mr. Bartlett 
has much to say. Here, for instance, 
he relates an incident that is worth re- 
telling: — 

" Upon one occasion the hairy - eared, 
two-horned rhinoceros, through constantly 
driving one of her horns against the 
bars of her cage, caused it in growing to 
curve backwards until the point was in the 
act of forcing its way through the skin, 
causing it to become ulcerated* In this 
case I had great difficulty in operating, not 
being able to coax the patient into any kind of 
submission, for she persistently exhibited the 
most determined 
resistance to be 

" By means of 
ropes I managed 
to make both of 
her front legs 
fast, attaching 
them to the bars 
of the den. It 
was a difficult 
matter to com- 
mence using the 
saw because of 
her obstinate 
determination to 
resist, jerking her 
head from side to 
side with the ut- 
most obstinacy. 
After a little 
while she became 
less violent, and 
I commenced to 
cut off a portion 
of the horn that 
curved backwards. Before I had cut half-way 
through she snapped the saw in two by a 
sudden jerk. Having two more saws at 
hand, the second attempt, I thought, would 
be successful, but another sudden jerk broke 
the second saw. She made desperate strug- 
gles to get free, but finally became thoroughly 
exhausted, whereupon she remained quiet 
for a few seconds, allowing me to complete 
the operation/* 

It will interest readers to know how these 
ungainly brutes are removed from summer 
to winter quarters and vice-versa^ and Mr, 

Digitized by OOOQ I C 

Bartlett tells us what befell him on a 
memorable occasion ■ — 

" Having resolved to remove, for the winter 
months, the two young rhinoceroses to the 
house next to that of the elands^ I arranged 
the night before with the keepers to muster 
at six o'clock the following morning. 

** At the appointed time all was ready. 
One of the animals had a strong leather 
collar on, the other a collar made of strong, 
thick, soft rope ; to these collars stout ropes 
were tied, one on each side of the animal. 
The men were divided so as to take charge 
of the ropes attached to the collars, there 
being about twelve men to each animal, and 
one or two others to assist in leading or 
attending t6 other matters, such as opening 
or closing gates, keeping the way clear, etc* 
One keeper was to lead off with a bundle of 
new hay on his back, for it was hoped that 


the brutes being hungry would, perhaps, 
follow him at once. 

" When the ropes were made fast, the 
men arranged, and the gates opened, the 
animals came out at an easy trot ; seeing 
the crowd of men, however, they suddenly 
turned round and plunged about. This 
caused a great commotion, at the same 
time some of the ropes getting slack became 
entangled among their legs. Knowing the 
danger of their being irritated and annoyed 
I ordered the ropes to be dropped in order 
that they should be disengaged ; then, to 




keep the animals quiet, I took a loaf of bread 
which had been kept in readiness, and, going 
between them, broke off pieces of bread and 
fed them, 

" Having attracted their attention by these 
means, they turned round to follow me for 
the bread ; this enabled 
the men to again get hold 
of the ropes. 

to have carried out the most arduous dental 
operation on record. The male hippopotamus, 
" Obaysch," had been suffering from a frac- 
tured tooth, and, fearing the resulting conse- 
quences might be serious, he had a strong 
oak fence fixed between the animal's pond 

'dkaggikg behind them all my israve akmv. 

" No sooner had we started, however, when 
I found their pace rapidly increasing from a 
walk to a trot, and from a trot to a gallop, 
myself taking the lead. Away we went full 
pelt; I was closely followed by my rough 
friends, dragging behind them all my brave 
army, whose weight* strength, and determined 
efforts did not appear to make the least 
difference lo the speed of my pursuers. 
Fortunately I had 
directed the gates of 
the yard leading to 
the house to be kept 
wide open, The 
animals bolted after 
me, in and across the 
yard, into the house ; 
I threw the re- 
maining por- 
tions of the loaf 
on the floor and 
scram bled over 
the rails out of 
the way of dan- 
ger ; they fol- 
lowed close at 
my heels, then 
came to a sud- 
den stop inside 
the house, and 
all was well." 

Mr. Bartlett 
may justly claim 


and the iron railings. The dental operation 
was successfully accomplished, but not with- 
out a fearful struggle. Mr. Bartlett prepared 
a powerful pair of forceps, more than 2fL 
long ; with these he grasped the patient's frac- 
tured incisor, thinking that, with a firm and 
determined twist, he would gain possession 
of the coveted piece of ivory. This, how- 
ever, was not so easily done, for the brute, 

astonished at 
his impudence, 
rushed back, 
tearing the in- 
strument from 
his hands, and, 
looking as wild 
as a hippo- 
potamus can 
look, charging 
just as the 
operator had 
recovered the 
i m p r o v i sed 
forceps. Un- 
daunted, how- 
ever^ Mr. Bart- 
l e 1 1 made 
another at- 
tempt, and this 
time held on 
long enough 
to cause the 
loose tooth to 


Original from 



shift its posit ion , but 
to relinquish his hold, 
sion to say, 
for the brute 
Under such 
operator had 
the coveted 
it forth, with 

ful twist. One of the 
circumstances appeared 

was again obliged 
He had no occa- 
"Open your mouth, please," 
did this to the fullest extent, 
auspicious circumstances the 
no difficulty in again seizing 
morsel, and this time drew 
a sharp pull and a power- 
most remarkable 
to be the enor- 
mous force ol the air when blown from the 
dilated nostrils of the great beast whilst 
enraged. The patient's furious charges 
against the iron -barred gateway were sufficient 
to loosen the brickwork by which the gate 
was held ; had the gate fallen at that moment 
the courageous dentist pro (em. would have 
been crushed beneath it. 

Bears are proverbially treacherous, and 
have ever been a source of much interest at 
the Zoo, and we have an instance of the 
escape of a Polar bear during the time 
Mr, A. Miller was Superinten- 
dent of the Zoological Society's 

The large Polar bear inmate at 
the time managed to escape from 
his den. He was discovered, a 
little before six o^lock one morn- 
ing, seated among 
the shrubs in the 
Gardens, An alarm 
was immediately 
raised, and all the 
keepers were as- 
sembled armed 
with forks and 
sticks and anything 
else available, The 
head keeper, 
James Hunt (with 
that care that be- 
comes a thoughtful 
husband and 
father), made the 

best of his way to the apartments where his 
wife and children slept at the back of the old, 
or circular, aviary. Telling his wife of the 
danger, he closed the shutters of the windows 
and locked the door, making sure of their 
btring safe. He then proceeded to the scene 
of action. 

Our white friend looked steadily at the 
pale faces, and, not appearing anxious to try 
his strength, he walked leisurely away from 
the crowd, w T ho, like most other crowds, felt 
bound to follow. A strong cord being in 
readiness, and carried by Hunt, was thrown 
lasso-like and with good aim, the noose 

having caught over the animal f s head. The 
brute at once made off, and quickly got over 
some palings ; but here a struggle took 
place. The men held on bravely, and the 
cord fitted tighter round the neck of our 
Arctic traveller, who now put forth his 
tremendous power, so much so that, after 
several jerks and a determined pull, snap 
went the line close under the ear, leaving 
the noose fixed like a tight collar round the 
throat. With an angry growl and a scratch 
or two with his paws he managed to rid him- 
self of the unpleasant bandage, then shaking 
himself and looking round on all sides, 
seemingly with a determination not to be 
caught in that way again, he trotted off at a 
brisker pace than before. 

No sooner was an attempt made to follow 
him than he turned to face his foes, and 
satisfied most of them that a too close 
acquaintance was dangerous ; at the same 
time it was clear that he had no particular 


wish to rush into mischief. As the men 
stood still in a body he merely looked at 
them, and, after a few seconds' consideration, 
walked leisurely away. 

It was then arranged to muster in front of 
him whenever he attempted to go in any 
direction leading out of the Gardens, or to 
any part of the Gardens in which he was 
likely to do damage. 

If this plan succeeded the men could turn 
him without goiivj; near enough to be in any 
great danger. After two or three hours' hard 
work they managed to drive him into the 
passage at the.;eiidxfff | ±e 1 carnivora dens, on 




the north side, and close to the den from 
which he had escaped. Here he was at 
once secured. Possibly no one suffered 
anything equal in comparison to the fright 
of the wife and children of the head keeper, 
who had been carefully locked in, and who 
were in the dark all this time. They naturally 
supposed that everybody must have been 
killed in the struggle. 

The most dangerous inmates of the Zoo, 
however, are not always to be gauged by 
their size. The reptile-house is, perhaps, the 
weirdest place in these islands. Here are 
cobras, vipers, and rattlesnakes. The slightest 
negligence may mean the death of one or 
more of the keepers, and a tragic instance is 
told of how Keeper Girling met his death at 
the fangs of a cobra. 

Girling at the time was keeper in the 
Zoological Society's reptile-house. From the 
testimony of his fellow-keeper, Girling had 
been out all night drinking, although when he 
returned to his duties in the morning his 
condition was not observed. Soon after he 
entered the room he terrified his assistant 
by taking from the cage the Indian cobra, 
holding it up, and telling his companion that 
he was inspired. He held the Serpent before 
his face, trhen, with a lightning-like dart, the 
beast struck him with his poison-fangs across 
the nose and between the eyes, inflicting 
several punctured wounds. The terrified 
keeper instantly threw the snake into its 
cage, the blood meanwhile slowly running 
down his face. 

Here is Mr. Bartlett's graphic version of 
the story : " About five minutes after this 
alarming incident I met Girling; he appeared 
alarmed, and exclaimed, ' I'm a dead mari;' 
He walked backwards and forwards for a few 
seconds, then, apparently recovering himself, 
said, * I'll not give up,' and, going to the 
sink, bathed his face with cold water. While 
this was going on I sent for a cab and also 
for a medical man. The cab arrived before 
the doctor, and I sent two keepers with him 
to the University Hospital ; on arriving there 
it required all their assistance to get him 
from the cab into the hospital. Desperate 
remedies were tried to save his life, but I am 
sorry to add he died within an hour of his 

It also comes within the duties of a 
Superintendent of the Zoo to keep a sharp 
look-out for any fresh specimens that may 
be bought at a fair price, and here is a 
startling instance of contempt of danger, 
arising from sheer ignorance. 

Mr. Bartlett tells it thus :— 

" One day a sailor came to the Gardens 
and asked for me. When I went to him he 
held in his hand a very old and ragged rice- 
bag. He said : ' I've got a fine stinging 
fellow here for you/ 

" I asked what he meant, so he opened 
the bag and showed me one of the largest 
and fiercest-looking cobras I had ever seen. 
I felt somewhat alarmed lest the brute 
should attempt to escape, so I advised the 
sailor to remain quiet until I obtained, from 
an adjoining room, a large fish-globe, into 
which I told him to drop the serpent, bag 
and all, and then secured the top. I asked 
him how he became possessed of this dan- 
gerous creature. 

" ' Caught it among some timber,' said he, 
1 on board a ship at Blackwall, just home 
from India.' 

" i And how did you get here with it in 
that old rag ? ' 

" ' Well,' said he, ' I took the train from 
Blackwall and the omnibus from Fenchurch 
Street, and he ' (meaning the snake) ' was 
quite still all the way.' 

" l What do you want for it ? f 

"'Ten shillings and my expenses,' which 
I paid. He asked me if I would take 
another if he caught it, as he had seen one 
larger than the one he had brought with 

" I gave him some good advice, and told 
him the danger to which he had exposed 
himself and his fellow-passengers by train and 
omnibus. I explained to him the best 
method of catching and bringing the next 
snake he found, but I never saw any more 
of him, so I am inclined to suppose he failed 
to capture the second cobra. 

" I may add that the one I bought was a 
fine, strong, and poisonous beast, and lived 
several years in captivity. No doubt my new 
acquisition had fed, while on board ship, 
upon the rats and mice it could easily find 

by Google 

Original from 


[ W& shali he glad to rtaivi Cmtri&tttiottf to this sertioit, ami to pay f&r smh as are autpted] 

the cat is ehftsing a mouse. This interesting contri- 
bution is sent us by Mr + George Pritchard, of 2, 
Stock Street Sal ford, near Manchester. 

The University students of St. Petersburg have 
been " on strike* " As one sees them slowly walking 
along the Ncvsky Pruspect, wearing a 
peaked cap and a long military great 
coat faced with the colours of the various 
branches of study, they have but little in 
common with other European student*. 
Once a year they cast aside their gloomy 
air, for they march along the *' Ncvsky, ~ 
and sing the old student-song* " Gaudeamus 
Igitur,* For some unknown reason the 
police forbade the observance of this custom. 
Nevertheless, the students marched as usual 
on February 201 h, 1899, and were extremely 
quiet in their behaviour. Outside the Uni- 
versity they were charged by a body of 1,000 
police and mounted gendarmes, and the 
picture reproduced above is a photograph 
of a crayon drawing, which shows the way 
in which the students were cruelly lashed 
by the ** niigajkcj" or loaded reins, of the 
mounted troops* This crayon drawing from 
life has been reproduced in a small size, 
and is now lieing sold 
sec let I y in St. Petersburg 
for the benefit of those stu- 
dents who have been expelled 
in consequence of the subse- 
quent disorders. It will be 
understood that for obvious 
reasons we are unable to give 
the name and address of our 

The next photograph is of 
a money -box which was cut 
out of wood b^ hand. If a 
coin is placed in the bird's 
beak it will overbalance the 
bird, allowing the Coin to 
drop from its ljeak into the 
mouth of the crocodile and, 
passing down its throat, to 
slide into the box below, 
around the sides of which 

The vehicle in this picture is an ordinary rock- 
ing-chair, which was not strengthened in any way 
for the unusual use to which it was put, not even 
the rockers being shod. Mr. R. E. Gaskill, of 
Bridgeport, New Jersey, is the driver. He was 
clad in a linen dust coat and a bat generally known 
as ^grandfather's. 1 ' A pair of rubber boors and a 
huge pair of fur gloves completed bis incongruous 
attire* The umbrella, which was fastened to the back 
of the chair, was red, white, and blue, and had been 
part of his outfit for a Presidential campaign. The 
photograph is a snap-shot, taken while in motion, 
Mr. Cask ill drove alMiu five miles in his novel sleigh 
without meeting with any accident. The fact that the 
rockers are farther apart in front than behind made his 
ride a dangerous one, and some neat balancing feats 
were necessary to prevent an upset when going 
over uneven snow. The horse had not been out 
for some time and was very frisky, Mr. G as- 

kin thus having to lean back 
quickly several [huts in order 
to escape the heels of the 
quadruped. The rocker- 
runners had worn about three- 
quarters of an inch during the 
trip, and the chair was nearly 
racked to pieces. It goes 
without saying that all who 
saw Mr* Gaskill stopped for 
a second look, and it is safe 
to assert that it w r ill Ije some 
lime liefore anyone conceives 
of a more extraordinary 
vehicle. The ride was not 
an advertisement, nor the 
result of a freak wager, but 
simply for the novelty of 
the thing. This interesting 
picture was sent by Mr, 
Alex. H. Craig> of Wood 
bury, N,J. 

* Copyright, 1000, by 


George Ntwncs, Limited 

Original from 

*3 6 


This is the portrait of a wonderful do£ 
who went over Shoshone Falls, Idaho, 1aai 
September, the only living thing that ever 

went over and 
was not instantly 
killed, Snake 
River flows through 
a cavern, carved in 
solid igneous rock. 
Suddenly the tra- 
veller finds himself 
on the verge of a 
great canyon, into 
the abysmal depths 
of which dash the 
foaming waters of 
Shoshone Falls* 
The mighty torient 
plunges in an un- 
broken Fall of 
220ft., which is 
6cfL higher than 
Niagara Fa lis* The 

owner of the dog is the hotel proprietor at Shoshone, The 
dog bit a little child, and it* owner threw it into Snake 
River above the Falls, poor doggie Wing carried over and 
landed on a rock in the river below. Its owner, finding it 
alive, was filled with contrition at his rash act s and hurried to 
the rescue. The only injuries sustained by the dog were a 
few scratches and the loss of all its toenails. The dog is 
now prized as a curiosity, and will live out the rest of its life 
in great ease, Mr. W\ J + Reese, of Berlin, Dallas County, 
Ala., sends these photos, of the dog and the Fails in question, 
and vouches for the truth of the story. 

During the Spanish -American War the 
feeling against Spain and Spaniards in 
general developed into various phases, some 
of which were grotesque. The idea shown 
in the above photo, was lo give the visitor 
to the country fair a chance to show his 
hatred of everything Spanish, and at the 
same time demonstrate his expert ness at 
throwing. The ammunition used were base- 
balls — three throws for five cents. This 
combination of patriotism and commercial 
industry is certainly unique. Photo, by Mr. 
W. R, Tilion, Prairie Depoi, Ohio. 

Mr. M. Atkinson, of 76, Christchurch Road, Strealham 
Hill, S-W t , sends the next photo*, wilh the following descrip- 
tion : *' This is a view uf the glass in our garden-door after it 
had hanged to, through a draught. The glazier who replaced 
it said he had put in hundreds of windows, hut had never 
seen such a strange breakage, spreading, as it did, from a 
point all over the window [rather a large one) without a 
single panicle of glass falling 

by Google 




This photograph does not represent the interior of 
a crockery shop, much as the display lends itself to 
the supposition, It is the photograph of the kitchen 
of a fishery-Oman's house in a Kincardineshire village. 
The large assortment of dishes would lead one to 
think that the family dined pretty well, and that there 
were a great many mouths to fill, but when it is stated 
that the household consists of the hsherwoman and 
her son , and that their fare is scanty, or at least 
" naething by ordinary the question naturally arises 
— W h encc t h is d i spla y ? W hen it h mention ed fa rt her 
that the greater pruponinn of the dishes have never 
been in use, and are simply there as ornaments, one 
wonders further — Why this extravagance ? The ex plan* 
at ion is this : There seems to be a rivalry among the 
fisher women as to who will have the best display of 
crockery t and this particular rivalry is not confined to 
one particular village, but to most of the hamlets 
round the Kincardineshire and Aberdeenshire coasts. 
Some of the collections have been handed down 
from generation to generation, and though the lady 
who owns this one would 
be considered well in the 
running, there are other 
collections which would 
probably beat this one, 
Housewives can readily 
appreciate the remark of 
the owner that <( they 
were an awfu' wark to 
keep clean." This photo, 
is sent by Mr. William 
Findlay, 8$, Leslie Ter- 
race t Aberdeen, 

The pigeon whose 
portrait we give in our 
next photo- is a record- 
beater, but not in the 
way of long distances. 
Her feats consist in lay- 
ing more eggs than any 
other pigeon living. It 
is a well-known fact that 
mother pigeons as a rule 
lay only two eggs to 
hatch, but this peculiar 
bird always lays three 
or four eggs, though as 
soon as its young make 
their appearance in the 
world the naughty 
mother generally kills 
two out of four, or one 
out of three. The bird, which is a very big one, and 
has a nest twice as large as (hat generally allotted to 
ordinary pigeons, belongs to Mr. C. J, S. Thoday, ol 
The Laurels, Will Ingham, Cambs. The photo, was 
taken by Mr. Bert Cole, WilHngham. 

This photo., which is 
interesting from the point 
of view of comparison 
with modern battlefields, 
is one of a series of pano- 
ramic pictures of the pla- 
teau before SebastopoK 
taken during the Crimean 
War by the late Mr. Roger 
Fen ton. Hundreds of the 
old ■ fashioned cannon - 
balls that were used during 
the Crimean War are seen 
scattered over a hollow 
where Psath has claimed 
many a brave man. 



*3 8 


It was a house of (our stories and 40ft. high, and 
the sheep, which wa_s a lug one, was standing on the 
ridge of the shed looking down upon the street below 
and upon ihc passers-by, who began to gather and 
gape with wonder at such an extraordinary spectacle. 
II o w d id it gel t he re ? Th e s pect a tors \ h on gh t it w ou Id 
grow dizzy and come down in a hurry, for there was 
quite a gale Wowing at the time, but it scampered 
about as surefooted as a goat. A visit to the back of 
the house ma le it plain how the animal had 

reached the roof. While being driven past a broken 
wall at I he back uf the houses shown it broke away 
from its companions and lost its head, as single sheep 
usually do. It cleared the boundary wall with a jump 
and got on to a parting wall between the houses, 
running along which it reached the lowest edge of a 
roof with another jump of about 3ft., and from this 
roof it jumped up to anoLhei\ ami finally got across 
to a third, where if was satisfied to remain. 
It was there two hours. Finally the tenant 
of the house, with assistance, got some laths 
with which to poke at it and make a noise 
on the shed, and so the innocent intruder was 
induced to go back by (he same dangerous 
path he had come. Mr. F, Forsler, of 
29, Lowther Street, Whitehaven, is respon- 
sible for this contribution. 

Here are two photos, of an extraordinary occurrence 
that befell a plant of dog's - mercury growing in 
Charterhouse Copse. A hazel nut had been 
attacked by a nuthatch and a clean round hole made 
in it at one end— the- marks of the blows of the bird's 
beak being clearly visible in the actual specimen. The 
nut was dropped by the bird after the kernel had been 
removed and happened to fall to the ground with the 
hole downwards. Into this hole grew the tip of the 

This double-faced gentleman, with a cork- 
screw neck, is not a monstrosity, but an 
everyday gentleman, an American photo- 
grapher by the name of Peler Gold, of Cin- 
cinnati His partner in business, Mr. Matt 
Levi, made the odd picture of Mr. Gold by 
a simple double exposure, cleverly joining the 
two negatives, however, so that they have the 
appearance of being only one. Uy covering 
one of the faces with a sheet of paper the 
picture becomes quite commonplace, espe- 
cially if the cigar half is allowed to show, 
when the coat and necktie fit as I he v should. 

sprouting du^VniLTCury, and 
finding itself in a blind alley the 
plant was compelled to describe 
a complete circle within the 
cavity of the nutshell and to 
emerge at the same hole as that 
by which it had entered. Hav- 
ing executed this gymnastic feat 
the plant seems 10 have got 
along quite happily, for all its 
upper leaves are quite normal, 
chough one of iis lower leaves 
had to twist itself uncomfort- 
ably to get out to the light of 
day. The plant lifted the nut 
several inches off the ground 
as it grew. The first photo, 
shows the plant and nut as 
they grew, the second the 
nut opened to show the curv- 
ing stem, Mr. Oswald H, 
Latter > of Charterhouse, God- 
in rf n fiflIlTffl ends this P hol °- 




ground, thus bringing the ear near enough to be 
chopped oh? with an axe by a tall man, Photo* sent 
by Mr, W. R. Til ton, Prairie Depot, Ohio. 

Though the pneumatic tyre is an invenlion of the 
present generation, it would seem at first sight of 
the accompanying photograph that the art of cycling 
was known and practised nearly as far back as 
three hundred years ago ! Mr* J* D. Day, wh" 
sends this novel subject, says in his letter : " I 
inclose a photograph of a window in Stoke Poges 
Church, near Slough, popularly known as the 
'Bicycle Window, 1 as the figure looks exactly as if 
it were coasting on a velocipede of ancient design. 
As, however, the window dates from the seventeenth 
century it cannot he meant for this. Its true mean- 
ing run 1,1 ins a subject for conjecture*" Antiquarian*, 
please note. 

This is a photo, of the Burlington Railway Com- 
pany's exhibit at the Omaha Exposition, and it is 
said to t>e the finest exhibit ever shown by a railway 
corporation, Everything illustrated in the adjoining 
photograph is made of corn, corn-stalks, and silk. 
Even the pictures on the walls are made from gTains 
of cum of various colours, blended and arranged to 
form the wonderful pictures. There are several 
amusing yarns about Kansas and its corn. It is 
said thai in Kansas when you see a waggon on the 
road, looking as if it 
were loaded with corn- 
silk, it is only the old 
farmer's whiskers 
stacked up behind 
him. Most of the 
streets are paved, the 
grains of corn being 
used fur cobblestones, 
while the colis arc hol- 
lowed out and used for 
sewer- pipes. The husk, 
when taken ofif whole 
and stood on end, 
makes a nice tent for 
the children to play in, 
A dozen grains furnish 
a supply of horse -feed 
for a livery stable* 
Moreover t it seems 
that if the soil were 
not soft and deep it 
would be impossible to 
harvest the corn, as it 
would grow to such a 
height. However, as 
it is, the ears get so 
heavy that their weight 
actually presses the 
stalk deep into the 

Mr, H« Morton, of School House, Brad field College, 
Reading, has come across this interesting curiosity 
among a collection belonging lo a friend of his. The 
picture represents an old halfpenny rolled out a 
yard in length. It is to be doubled whether the 
authorities at the Mint would feel inch net i to lake 
tack the so-called coin as being " faulty, 1 ' but 
perhaps the owner thereof will try his luck and fct 
us know. 




" I send you a photo, which was taken 
just at the right time/ 1 says Mr, K. V. 
jollye, of 2o, All>ert Road, Dover, " It 
was taken in Australia, and I hope you will 
ihink it wotlh a place in The Si ran n. 

It represents a man who is l>ein£ .swung complc-li-ly 
fOUtld in a swinging- boat. The boat is nnt con- 
structed as ordinary swinging-boats usually are, as it 
will be seen that the occupant is not pulling himsdf 
over, hut the three men below are doing it for him/ 3 

Mr. O, M. Poole sends the next picture all the way 
from Yokohama, japan, and he explains the circum- 
stances under which it was taken as follows : iS Here- 
with I send you a photograph, which, as it is a raihur 
peculiar- looking thing, you might like to put in the 
•Curiosities. 1 At first sight it looks like an in- 
explicable accident, but it is reaJ]y a snap-shot, 
looking down on the deck of the yacht Dai mi 10, 



lie on 

a sail from \ ok 

ohama to Tom 10 


l, \^mi^ 




\ ^^H 



The Rev. Thomas lender, of E, Thumjck Rectory, 
Grays, Essex, in sending the above photo*, writes j 
** I inclose a photograph of a small penny loaf that has 
been in the possession of my family for a century. 
The harvest had been very bod, and in consequence 
the flour did not make good bread ; this is indicated 
by the colour of the baf, but can not t of course > be 
fully expressed in the photograph. Thinking the 
picture might lead people to be thankful for the large 
loaf in this present year 1900, I have had a penny 
loaf of to-day t>oughl at nu ordinary baker*s t and I 
have placed it by the side of ihe 1800 loaf, w r ith the 
curious result shown*" The photograph, was taken 
by Mr. Alfred Russell, Grays. 

This is the portrait of a small but perfectly genuine 
electric flash, produced by a spark coil ; the 
" sitting** occupied less than one ten-thousandth part 
of a second* But it is a good likeness, for all that. 
The delicacy of design is as Iteautiful as it is extra* 
ordinary. Mr. F\ Mul hoi land , of 2, Madras Villas, 
Kltham, Kent, is the contributor, 


(""rw^nL'' Original from 



s «■ 








by Google 

Original from 

Vol. xx* 

The Strand Magazine. 


No, 117, 

Illustrated Interviews. 


Bv William G, FitzGh^ald. 
With Photographs Taken During the Expedition. 

HAT is it that takes a man to 
I can only 

the Polar regions ? 

think of twc> reason s— firstly, 
the passion for overcoming 
obstacles; and secondly, the 
love of science. Both these 

characteristics are united in the person of 

Mr, C Egeberg Borchgrevink, who has just 

returned from the great icy Victoria l^and of 

the Antarctic Conti- 
nent. Now, the love 

of adventure is under- 
standable enough, and 

the records of Speke 

:md Burton, of Stanley 

and Selous and Nan- 

sen, make fascinating 

reading. To the 

adventurers themselves, 

however, North Polar 

exploration is dreary 

enough work, while the 

South Pole is infinitely 

more unattractive, for 

there is not even the 

chance of a tussle with 

an offended bear. 

Beyond the stupendous 

ice cliffs that guard 

Victoria I -and no living 

thing walks or creeps or 


However, Mr. Borch- 

grevink wanted to break new ground in the 

strictest sense, and he has devoted himself to 

Antarctic exploration, at which, as the readers 

of The Strand Magazine are aware, he is 

no novice.* 

the average person probably cares little 

for " the culminating point of terrestrial 

magnetism in the South/ 1 and feels quite 

* Kefcr to " Antarctic Exploration " in rmr issue for Varcti, 
iS^7j and to the "South-em Cross Antarctic K sped it ion," 

**«*...■» Gooslc 

VoL x*.— ft 


surprised that Ross in order to fix its exact 
position should have gone down 2,500 miles 
into the unknown, below Australin. And 
yet it looks as if we might soon expect quite 
a South Polar boom, what with the German 
Government Expedition, the one organized 
by our own Geographical Society, and that 
of Belgium. 

Mr Borchgrevink's outfit was as perfect as 
science could make 
it; and at length, on 
August 22, 1898, the 
good ship Southern 
Cross si i p f led do w n 
the Thames with Mr. 
Borchgrevink and his 
expedition on board, 
and his seventy or 
eighty excellent Sibe- 
rian dogs, which had 
been specially pro- 
cured for him. The 
chief officers were 
Captain Jensen, Sub- 
Lieutenant Col heck, 
R.N.R., Mr. Hugh 
Evans, Dr. Klovstad, 
M + A,, M.D., Nicolai 
Hanson t Mr. A. 
FougntT, and Mr. Ber- 
nacchi, who was much 
more southern than 
even his name suggests, 
for he was born beneath the Southern Cross. 
The rest are introduced later* It may be 
mentioned that all the members, thirty-one 
in a 11 j were picked by Mr Borchgrevink. 

The voyage from Santa Cruz to Hobart 
took ninety-eight days, and they stayed about 
a fortnight at the Tasmanian capital, having 
such a good time that the terrible hardships 
they were called upon to endure later on 
must have appeared all the more severe by 
contrast Original fro m 



From a Photo, tv W Pta*Jt. 



1 wanted to know what the journey was 
like after lea\ing Ilobart "To the first 
land, jJ remarked Mr. Jiorehyrevink, " is about 
2,500 miles ; and I should think it was 
twelve days after leaving Hobart that we 
met the first ice." After that progress was 
both slow and erratic, consisting of swift 
dashes here and there down lanes or chan- 
nels of open water, the vessel frequently 
getting nipped with such irresistible force as 
to lift her right out of the water. This 
kind of thing called for incessant vigilance, 
and must have been most wearing for 
every member of the expedition, including 
the Southern Cross herself, she being 
on one occasion lifted 4ft. out of the 
water by a pressure that made her lift, 
of massive timber groan and shriek. "I 
spent many anxious yet interesting moments 
in the crow's nest," the leader told 
ine, "as I watched the vessel rise and 
fall on the heaving seas, and dash with 
apparent recklessness among the grinding, 
roaring ice-blocks. Trembling and shaking 
she blundered on her way, the swell growing 
rapidly less as we edged successfully into the 
inner ice-pack." This crawling through the 
channels took thirty-eight days. 

On the r4th January, 1899, high snow- 
clad land was seen at midnight standing 

sharply out in a weird haze of crimson and 
gold. This was Balleny Island. Then came 
bad weather, and much il screwing" of the 
pack, which was simply the grinding and 
clashing of the great ice masses under the 
influence of wind and currents, 

Mr. Borchgrevink had evidently struck a 
had place, and only got out of it into open 
water after a hard fight which lasted forty- 
eight days. There were storms of blinding 
sleet, and the decks and rigging became 
covered with thick ice; their hair froze into 
solid lumps and icicles hung on to their 
beards; clothes stiffened and clashed like 
coats of mail But these details assumed their 
proper proportions when, on the 17th Feb- 
ruary, the Southern Cross entered Robertson 
Bay, where the rocks of Cape Adare jutted 
out dark and threatening into the icy wilder- 
ness. And it was here on a yellow* beach at 
the foot of the rocks that it was intended to 
pitch the pioneer camp— surely a ghastly 
prospect It was eleven o'clock at night when 
the Southern Cross dropped anchor in ten 
fathoms, and fired a salute of four guns 
mingled with the energetic cheers of thirty 
enthusiastic men. Arrangements were at 
once made for landing the stores, instru- 
ments, dogs, and outfit ** We lowered the 
boxes into small whale-boats and pulled them 



sea- two uuos in tiiiii^fetaiKftnEUTn 




as near as wo could to the shore. Then 
some of us had to wade up to the arm-pits 
into the icy breakers and carry the things 
ashore," The bli/./ard is the main product 
of the South Polar regions, so that you 
cannot even go outside your door without 
being fastened to a stout rope, lest you be 
whirled away like a wisp of hay. Through 
these gales Mr. Brochgrevink lost a good 
deal of time and his vessel two anchors ; 
while to crown everything the grim mountain 
towering over them rained down showers of 
stones on to the 

On March Tst 
the Union Jack, 
presented by the 
Duke of York, 
was formally 
hoisted on Vic- 
toria I .and, to the 
of loud cheers 
from those on 
shore, and with 
a salute and diii- 
ping of the flag 
from those on 
board. In the 
photograph Mr. 
Borchgrevink is 
holding the line, 
while to the right 
is the scientific 
staff of the ex- 
pedition. Next 
day the Stmt hern 
Cross left the 
party at their 
pioneer settle- 
ment at Cape 
Adare, which 
had by now l>een 
christened Camp 

" We were then cut off from all the world," 
said Mr Borchgrevink t pathetically, " thou 
sands of miles south of Australasia ; and all 
ten of us fully realized our isolation as the 
good ship steamed steadily away towards New 
Zealand, What would happen in the coming 
year? We knew little of the conditions of 
life in this weird and forbidding land, and 
then, in the event of the Southern Crass being 
crushed how lon^ should we remain alive?" 

At this stage it may be well to introduce 
the members of the expedition who were 


yok the 

landed on South Victoria I^and 


Mr. ltorcl.- 

grevink, F. R.G.S., Lieutenant W. Col beck, 
K*N. R + , magnetic observer; Nicholai Hanson, 
zoological taxidermist ; Louis Bernacchi, 
magnetic observer, astronomer and photo- 
grapher ; Dr. Klovstad, M.A., M.D. ; Hugh 
Evans, assistant zoologist ; Anton Fougner, 
general factotum ; Colbein Ellefsen, cook ; 
and the Finns: Pear Savio and Ole Must* 
These last attended to the dogs and their 
harness, and were altogether excellent fellows 
— " never idle, but always devising something 
for the general comfort. For example, Savio 

himself made 
forty or fifty pairs 
of Finn boots, 
and so saved our 
feet from frost- 

Soon came the 
trying task of 
bringing the 
stores — pro- 
visions, coal, 
timber, etc, — 
some 300yds. up 
from the beach 
to the camping- 
place* As you 
may see in the 
frontispiece, no 
one stood on his 
dignity, and all 
hands helped. 

** It was heavy 
work hauling 
tons of coal up 
the very steep, 
shingly slope. 
We burned seal 
blubber and the 
skins of pen- 
guins, but could 
hardly have done 
without more 
substantial fuel. 
On the 13th of 
March, Sir George Newness birthday, most 
of the provisions were brought up to the 
house, and we celebrated the double event by 
demonstrating with the flag, The tempera- 
ture began to fall rapidly, and the penguins 
and Skua gulls began to desert us. 

41 Fougner, Col beck, and I had many 
anxious hours fighting the fierce winds, so 
as not to be blown over the cliffs with all our 
outfit. The fierce squnlls drifted the snow 
until we were almost buried. One of our 
boats was lifted up bodily from the beach 
and smash£tticijpdA#ahfc rocks by a gust 


S UMth.\ JACK, ON VlL-rtJklA LANU 
FlkST TIMfc. 




raging at eighty-seven miles an hour What 
little leisure we had was spent in shooting at 
targets, but even this sport we had to give up 
for a curious reason* After the first few 
shuts the intensely cold air surrounding the 
hot barrel produced a remarkable mirage, 
and ,so rendered the sight of the weapon 
practically useless. The dogs were com- 
pletely buried in the snow, and soon the 
entrance to our dwelling was a mere hole, 
seen in the accom- 
panying photograph. 
'The storms splin- 
tered the ice in the 
bay, and hurled 
masses of ice, snow, 
and water up against 
the beach. Against 
this bombardment 
we were obliged to 
fortify the east side 
of our hut by means 
of a sloping roof of 
stout canvas and 
seal -skins weighted 
down by several 
bags of coal, On 
the 22nd April I 
resolved upon my 
first expedition into 
Robertson Ray, 
which was then 
covered with 
1 young* ice 2}<ft, 
th ick. Fougner, 

Bernaecbi, Savio, 
the Finn, and I 
took provis ions 
for twenty days 
with one small 
canvas - boat and 
twenty dogs. 

tl The ice bind- 
ing the floes to- 
gether was rather 
thin, so we had 
to proceed with 
great caution, and 
at last I decided 
to camp on a small 
beach at the foot 
of the perpen- 
dicular wall of 
Victoria Land, 
This sloping 
beach is not 
30yds, at the 
widest part, and 
only some 4ft. 
above water, From the precipitous wall of the 
Antarctic Continent a kind of gravel rush had 
taken place, and formed a steep slope rising to 
a height of about 30ft." The exact situation is 
shown in the photograph here reproduced, 
"Above us rose a sheer wall about 500ft. 
high and in places overhanging the beach. 
Soon after we landed a gale arose, and we 
pitched the silk tent; We were in serious 
peril when the ice began to break up> and 


by W 

:apg OWING TO IHE^^^^gll^p^-j^HK ice* 




had just time enough to save our provisions 
by carrying them to the top of the gravel 
slope, where drift st*ow and ice had formed 
a kind of gallery about 6ft. broad, imme- 
diately on to the mountain wall. Outside 
the gallery the drift snow had formed a 
kind of fence* and so in the 6ft. groove 
between this fence and the wall we pitched 
our tent Suffering intensely with the ex- 
treme cold, we hauled up our provisions and 
travelling gear by means of ropes, whilst 
huge breakers washed over the beach and sent 
the drenching, icy spray all over us. This 
froze at once, and we were soon covered with 
a sheet of ice* When a calm came I sent 
Fougner and Savio in the collapsible boat 
towards Camp Ridley, but they met with 
heavy drifting ice, and for two days we 
remained in ignorance of their fate. At last, 
however, both men appeared on a steep ice 
swell descending from the precipice above 
us, and cutting steps with an axe as they 
slowly approached. I saw they were in a 
pretty bad way. They said they had dis- 
covered (or thought they had) the only 
possible place where an ascent might be made 
to the ridge of Victoria Land, some 5,000ft 
above us, The first 50oft. t however, would 
be terribly risky. At all events, after a good 
feed of seal beef we began the ascent. 
Some of our poor sledge dogs howled 
lamentably as they saw us rising higher 
and higher. Four of them had already been 
hurled to destruction by losing their foot- 
hold, and now another was precipitated 
200ft Step by 
step we climbed 
400ft, with infinite 
labour, and con- 
tinued to climb all 
night. By the 
ridge, however, we 
were enabled to 
proceed to Camp 
Ridley, having 
spent seven days 
away from the 

It may be as- 
sumed that no 
human being can 
live on the re- 
sources of this for- 
bidding country. 
A few curious fish 
were caught, and 
there were many 
seals on the ice. 

the way, was a pretty frequent dish. Talk- 
ing about food, I ought to tell you that 
the dogs were often obliged to kill and 
devour one of their number. And here is 
a remarkable thing. They would, as it were, 
elect by common consent the one to be 
killed --and that one was by no means the 
feeblest and weakest of the pack. The poor 
doomed brute would avoid his fellows as 
long as he could, and go off by himself. But 
it was all to no purpose, and sooner or later 
they would fall upon him with one accord 
and rend him in pieces," 

In Mr. Rorehgrevink's diary you will 
meet the words (i tremendous gale " in every 
second line. The pages of that interesting 
journal appear to be strewn as it were with 
whirling sledges, boxes, and stones, which 
literally flew about before the terrific hurri- 
canes* Showers of pebbles descended on 
the camp at night, so that the party were 
glad their hut was only accessible through a 
tunnel in the snow. Here is one entry ; — 

11 The man who has to read the meteoro- 
logical observations 200yds, away approaches 
the thermometer box with a rope around his 

About the middle of May the age-long 
Antarctic night began to set in. " It causes 
a depressing feeling, as though one were 
looking at one's self growing old. Chess, 
cards, and draughts are the most popular 
recreations." The accompanying photo, 
shows Mr, Borchgrevink playing his favourite 
game with the doctor at Camp Ridley, The 

Raw seal, by 

CHB£$ KEJ,J {•■.'. l-;i- TUB TfcKklfcLE TEUIUM OF Trfjv AGS L 'iN'.l ANTARCTIC «|tiH7 


by GOOglC 



surprisingly elaborate lamp on the left was 
taken from the ship. "Chess," remarked 
the leader of the expedition, u calls for 
considerable concentration of mind, and so 
it served to take our minds off our dreary 

The writer has met many explorers, and 
well realizes the inevitablcness of wrangles 
and quarrels when a number of highly- 
trained and intelligent men are thrown into 
forced companionship in a remote part of 
the world for long periods* " I am happy 
to say that we did quarrel," said Mr. 
Borchgrevink, " or else we should not have 
been human. But no 'breeze* lasted nearly 
so long as a gale, and we came back even 
better friends— respecting and understanding 
one another better — than when we went 

Here, however, is a significant entry in 

the grinding and screwing ice, as the huge 
blocks, many tons in weight, crashed against 
and climbed upon one another, rising and 
falling and splintering with fearful crashes. 
And yet I doubt whether this fearful uproar 
was more trying than the killing silence and 
solitude of those vast frozen wastes, over 
which the beautiful aurora whirled in mighty 
curtains and brilliant streamers of dazzling 


" It may give you some idea of the strength 
of the stone-laden wind-gusts when I tell 
you that Mr. Evans nearly lost bis life 
through going a few yards outside the door 
and incautiously letting go of the guiding- 

" We searched fur him three whole hours 
during that terrible night in blinding snow- 
drifts and great cold, and at last Mr. Fougner 
and the Finn Must found him, in an 


the diary: "We are getting sick of one 
another's company. We know each line of 
one another's faces. We seem to have 
nothing fresh to talk about, and when one of 
us opens his mouth the others know exactly 
what he is going to say ! " 

(t Itwas the two months' night which we 
found so trying. We slept as long as we 
could, and worked out our observations by 
lamp-light. Of course we read a great deal 
from our splendid library, and whenever we 
could we had sledge and dog races* No 
indoor work or amusement, however, could 
make us forget the appalling thunder of 

exhausted condition. Afterwards several of 
us tried to reach the thermometer screen by 
way of the guiding-rope, but each had to be 
hauled back exhausted. The wind blew like 
a tornado, roaring and tearing at the house 
and bombarding ns with dangerous showers 
of large stones." 

On June 30th one of the sledge-dogs re- 
turned after a mysterious journey on his own 
account lasting two months. He bad drifted 
away out to sea on a piece of ice during a 
gale, and had xe turned over the frozen surf 
He was able to look after himself, however, 
and Mr. Bordigrevink noted the remarkable 




fact that he was quite fat on his return to 
camp ! Clearly, he had called upon the 
dignified penguins for sustenance during his 
solitary expedition, 

The photo, on the preceding page shows 
the leader or the expedition himself with his 
favourite sledge-dog, Sembla, who was quite 
a remarkable creature — the finest of the whole 
pack, in fact. " We 
had ten or twelve 
dogs in each sledge, 
but even two or 
three of them can 
do a great deal of 
work. And the loads 
were no joke, for 
one sledge might 
contain provisions 
for three or four 
months. These dogs 
eat very little them- 
selves, and will pull 
until they drop from 
exhaustion. Some 
of ours had been 
with Peary, and 
some of the best of 
the pack are coming 
home to England/' 

It was on the 21st 
of July that Mr. 
Borchgrevink left 
Camp Ridley on an 
important expedition, having with him Mr, 
Fougner and both the Finns, while thirty 
dogs pulled the sledges. "We fought our 
way towards the Cape amid heavy and hum- 
mock y ' screwing/ We reached a field of 
heavily -sere wed ice, where pointed blue 
masses reared on end with deep cracks 
between. The travelling was terrible, the ice 
edges being as sharp as knives and cutting 
the slides of our sledges until fringes of torn 
wood began to protrude from beneath. We 
lay down in our furs and slept for an hour or 
so, the weird moon glaring at us from on 
high like a huge lamp. Enormous bergs 
were floating about in the pack — bril- 
liant blue monarchs quite independent 
of their surroundings. We were now about 
two miles from the perpendicular basalt cliffs 
of Victoria Land, where they rise 5,000 ft, 
towards the open sea. All metals stuck 
persistently to our fingers. The track grew 
worse and worse, and we pulled and lifted, 
shoved and shouted to our willing dogs, 
until our tour sledges rubbed along over the 
rough sufftice. At length we decided to 
return. Towards evening we pitched one of 

our silk tents in a snow-drift— as usual in a 
square formed by the four sledges/ 1 (The 
pitching of these tents after a long day's 
march is shown in the photo, here re- 

The hunting powers of the two Finns were 
of the greatest possible use. Just when the 
dogs were wanting a good feed and Mr. 

II ICllI\fc 

Borchgrevink was asleep in his bag, the two 
excellent fellows were seen approaching, 
driving a live seal before them — f *just as 
peasants at home drive their cattle to 
market." Curious as it may sound, that 
seal provided the dogs with plenty of food 
and the men with a large fire. When the 
journey northwards was resumed the going 
was found to be worse than ever, and two 
sledges had to keep close to one another to 
enable them to benefit by one another's 
tracks. Another sledge journey was under- 
taken later on with the idea of attempting 
to reach the coast land to the west of 
Robertson Hay, Camp was pitehed at the 
foot of an iceberg, and Mr, Borchgrevink 
pitched his own tent in a worn cave in 
the berg itself. At midnight they came 
across a seal, which they killed and fed to 
the dogs , afterwards lighting the skin and 
blubber, which continued to shine weirdly 
like a lighthouse in the dark Antarctic 
night as the party drew away from the spot. 
The dogs were now suffering severely, and 
were frequently frozen fast to the ice. Some 



hoping to free themselves, but remained 
stuck fast. 

An island was discovered to the south and 
the western side of it reached before dark. 
This island was christened Duke of York 
Island, and the accompanying photo, shows 
the silk tent pitched at Mid- Winter Camp. 
This island is about four miles across at its 
widest point; there is plenty of iron and tin 
there, and traces of silver. (( I took pos- 
session of it officially for Sir George Newnes, 
under the protection of that Union fack 


which H.R.H. the Duke 
presented to the expedition. 
"Taking with me the 

of York had 



Must to 
the coast line, I left Savio in 
camp to construct a Finn tent out of seal- 
skins, provision bags, etc. } which he proposed 
to stretch over our sledges stuck up on end, 
so that with a seal blubber fire we might be 
comparatively comfortable/' Poor 01 e Must, 
by the way, suffered severely From the cold, 
and if his master had not administered 
stimulants to him pretty freely he would 
have died. 

"At night we dug ourselves down in the 
snow, finding this warmer than the tent 
Our sledge slides being worn by the rough 
going we were obliged to use our reserve 
hickory ski. JJ 

" It seems almost impossible/' writes Mr. 
Borchgrevink again, " to explore this 
country, owing to the conditions prevailing* 
In the vicinity of Robertson Bay, for example, 
altitudes of 12,000ft, made the journey into 
the interior absolutely impossible. Then, 

again, stupendous glaciers precipitated 



selves into the sea, streaked and crossed by 
innumerable crevasses, rendering an expedi- 
tion arduous and perilous in the extreme. 
And there were gales — nothing but gales. 

u Bernacchi and Ellefsen had a terrible 
experience when bringing up supplies of 
food- Overtaken by a severe squall in the 
ice-pack they camped at the foot of a berg, 
the wind being so strong that they were 
unable to creep against it on all fours. 
Although the ice was 4ft. or 5ft, thick 
they expected to see a break-up every 

moment And so f 
choked and nearly 
killed by the tor- 
nado, they climbed 
the ice precipice 
and camped in a 
cavity until morn- 

*' On one of our 
journeys on the 
glaciers of Victoria 
Land, near Duke 
of York Island, 
the Finn Savio 
nearly lost his life, 
having carelessly 
ventured alone on 
the glacier without 
a guiding rope. 
He suddenly felt 
the snow give way 
under him and he 
fell headlong into a crevasse, turning round 
three times before be finally struck head down- 
wards 60ft below, a faithful dog that had 
followed him howling for help at the edge 
above. For hours Savio remained in despair 
in this awful position. At length he managed 
to turn himself right side up. The ice wall, 
however, curved above his head and shut 
out the edge from which he had fallen. 
How he managed to save himself is most 
interesting. He found in his pocket a strong 
penknife, and with this he began carefully 
and slowly to carve small supports for his 
feet. Then, pushing his back against the 
opposite ice wall, he gradually worked his 
way up the chimney. The varying widths 
and slippery surfaces presented extraordinary 
difficulties, but Savio at length arrived at the 
top, speechless and exhausted. I invested 
the crevasse mysclT and saw with my own 
eyes the steps cut with the penknife,'' 

About this time Mr- Borchgrevink was 
becoming very anxious concerning the 
condition of the zoologist Nicholai Hanson* 
For one things (t^|-pfjo|f] fellow lost all feeling 




in his legs and was hardly able to walk, 
although the doctor applied the dearie 
battery to his limbs. The leader of the 
expedition had, indeed, a number of anxieties 
just at this time, He nearly lost his own 
life by falling into a glacier, and only 
managed to save himself by throwing his 
alpenstock quickly across the mouth of the 
treacherous abyss. Then, again, the little hut 
was often completely buried in the snow, 
started by the terrific gusts of wind, and holes 
had to be dug to let the snow out. " Rheu- 
matism and neuralgia were not unknown, 
Poor Hanson grew worse almost every day — 
took little nourishment, and was very low- 
spirited. On the 8th of October his con- 

"The whole staff came in one by one and 
said good-bye; then blessed him and left the 
room. Half an hour before the end came the 
first penguin came back, and the dying man 
asked to see it He was delighted to 
examine the bird. He felt sorry he was 
going, because of his work. He passed 
away at three in the afternoon. On the 20th 
we buried him, placing the coffin on a large 
sledge, and covering it with the Union Jack, 

" We pulled the sledge across the peninsula 
with ropes and then dragged it to the top. 
At the grave I read a brief funeral service, 
and then we left the sad spot." 

The next photo, reproduced shows, among 
others, poor Nicholas Hanson, taken for the 


dition was so bad that the doctor sat up 
with him night and day, He drew his 
breath with great difficulty, and at two in 
the morning, on the 14th of October, Dr. 
Klovstad called nie in my sleeping- hag and 
told me that Mr. Hanson had not long to 
live, He further said that he had broken the 
news to the dying man, and that he had 
expressed a wish to say good-bye to us all. 
I went in and found him very quiet and with- 
out pain, Calmly he bade me his last fare- 
well, and confided me his last wishes. He told 
me he wanted to be buried at the foot of a 
big boulder, about i,ooofL upon Cape Adare. 

last time. This was in the wi Titer season, 
outside the hut at Camp Ridley, On the 
extreme left is one of the Finns, Ole Must. 
Evans is on the roof, Hanson immediately in 
the foreground near the door, and behind 
him is the cook* Mr, Fou^ner and 
Lieutenant Co I beck are together, and behind 
stands the Finn Savio and the doctor. 

'T'enguins began toarrive in great numbers 
after the middle of October, and we looked 
forward eagerly to the time when we might 
expect some eggs. Towards the end of 
October the ice-pack began to slacken, and 
I placed a?d&ri water-tight casks with short 





reports of our proceedings both in the 
hollows of the bergs and in the floes. Here 
is a typical Antarctic iceberg, which differs 
from the North 
Polar ones in 
having a curious 
flat, smooth top 
like an artificial 
fortification in- 
stead of the jagged 
pinnacles and 
towers of the bergs 
of northern seas. 
This berg was 
about 250ft. high, 
The next photo, 
shows a cave in 
this same berg, 
and here we 
camped and left 
one of the re- 
cords 1 have just 
mentioned, which 
ran as follows : — 
" 'Cape Ada re, 
Victoria Land, 
"'Nov. 1 st, 1899. 
u 'This is placed 
in the cave of an 
iceberg situated 
about two English 
miles west of 
Cape Adare. The 
British Expedition 
ynder my com- 



mand has been successful in its object, but 
has lost one of its members, the zoologist, 
Mr. Nicholas Hanson, who died on the 14th 

of October. Any- 
body who should 
find this is kindly 
requested to for- 
ward it to the 
Royal Geographi- 
cal Society of 
London, stating 
longitude and 
latitude where it 
was found, also 
conditions under 
\\ h i c h it was 
found y whether 
any icebergs were 
in sight , what wind 
and current pre- 
vailed at the time, 
and finally the 
finder's name and 
address.— (Signed) 
G E, Borch- 
(jrevink.* I also 
inclosed a photo- 
graph of the berg 

** The cave 
where we left this 
record was about 
100yds. deep, and 
was or a beautiful 

hi I ICK't AVK IN INK -i Li 

« THE PARTY CAMM£f)|rj g j p g | ffQ\ grCCHlSH - OlUC ICC 





with gorgeous ice-sta ladies hanging from the 
roof. We lit up one of these caves with mag- 
nesium, and the effect was indescribably grand. 

"On the 3rd of November we got our First 
penguin eggs, and I at once ordered my 
staff to commence collecting eggs to put 
down in salt in case the Southern Cross 
should not return, and we should be left 
longer than we had anticipated. 

"Now a few words about these remarkable 
birds. You have to become used to penguin 
flesh — we called it * ptarmigan/ and boiled 
it first and roasted 
it afterwards, I 
quite got to like 
it in the end ; the 
eggs, too, were 
very good* Here 
is a photo, of the 
penguin colony — 
quite one of the 
most remarkable 
sights I have ever 
witnessed* They 
had absolutely no 
fear of man, and 
it was the queerest 
experience im- 
aginable to walk 
a mon g these 
crowds of up- 
standing birds, 
who would hustle 
and push one 
exactly like a 
human crowd. 
More than that, 

when they saw us they would turn to one another 
in astonishment, put their beaks together, and 
apparently make remarks about the human 
intruders ! They were so tame that we 
used to tie them up as prisoners, study them 
from a natural history point of view, and 
then eat them and burn their skins as fuel." 
Some of these remarkable prisoners are shown 
in the photo, next reproduced. H It was very 
comic to see these fellows apparently com- 
muning together and discussing their melan- 
choly prospects. Some of these penguins. 


" apparently coumun:ni: 


cuvsr-iiKn a:sd discussing thfjh 




entire peninsula was 
these birds, and a 

by the way, were about 4ft high. Their 
n^sts are composed of pebbles ; and so far 
as I could see their food appears to consist 
mainly of the same indigestible commodity, 
At all events , I cut open nearly every 
penguin we killed, and found quantities of 
pebbles in all of them. 

" At one time the 
literally covered with 
constant stream of new arrivals could be seen 
far out on the ice like an endless black snake 
winding in between the ice-floes. In half an 
hour the two Finns collected 435 eggs. 11 

Gales— always pales ; one blew at the rate 
of over 108 miles an hour. Mr. Borch- 
gre virile says that no one ought to start on a 
sledge journey in these latitudes without 
allowing for 20 per cent- of checking gales. 
And you must take practically every ounce 
of food with you. There are no Arctic 
fauna here, such as bears, foxes, musk oxen, 
and reindeer. The Antarctic explorer depends 

deed, so bold were these birds that on several 
occasions they attacked the dogs and even 
the members of the expedition, swooping 
down from a great height straight on to the 
men's heads, and then striking with their 
wings, afterwards rising again to renew the 

On November 22nd a large sheet of open 
water was found near the Cape, and hun- 
dreds of penguins were jumping about 
busily. The accompanying photo, shows 
this sheet of water being navigated in kayaks. 
There was a strong six-knot current. 

" Would the Southern Cross v we wondered, 
be able to reach us ? At any rale, we began 
to economize food, and laid in additional 
stocks of seal beef and penguins' eggs." As 
the strange Antarctic summer came on the 
drift snow became troublesome, and also the 
dust from the guano-beds. What a place for 
a party of civilized men to spend a twelve- 
month ! So dreary and desolate and lifeless 


entirely upon the food he carries on his 
sledges. "In my opinion," Mr. Borchgrevink 
remarked, "successful exploration within the 
Antarctic circle will always be local — 1 mean 
confined to one locality. For if too big a 
field of operations be attempted failure must 
result. Also, there ought to be close co- 
operation between expeditions on land and 
at sea; between vessels and sledges." 

On the 1 5th of November 4,000 eggs were 
laid down in salt, by way of a prudent 
reserve. The young penguins, by the way, 
had a terrible enemy in the Skua gull an 
unpleasant creature, who awaited the hour 
when the first little penguins would appear 
and then deliver a determined attack. In- 
Diqili, OU5 

is this strange region that the discovery of a 
few insects by the doctor caused tremendous 

The next photo* illustrates the difficulty of 
ice-travel — conveying stores, tents, etc., across 
a channel of open water. 

At the Murray Glacier Camp, by the way, 
a curious adventure was experienced. " Early 
one morning Savio and I were aroused by a 
great noise on the mountain above us. We 
crawled towards the opening of the tent, 
dragging with us our sleeping-bags, which 
stuck to us persistently. A huge piece of 
rock as big as our tent was tearing down with 
fearful velocity in a bee-line for our camp. 
It had got on to itr> edt-e and was rolling like 





a wheel Finally the monster took a westerly 
course and landed in a bed of snow 20ft, 
away from us. 

"Christmas Eve was celebrated by speeches, 
toddy, extra rations, and an intense longing 
for home. On Christmas Day itself we had 
tinned plum-pudding ; and Mr, Evans deserted 
his scientific occupations for the making of 
cakes. We were constantly worrying about 
the Southern Crass ^ and had to devote 
ourselves to all kinds of indoor labour in 
order to take our 
minds off this 

Thg next photo, 
reproduced shows 
the interior of the 
hut at Camp Rid- 
ley, with Mr. 
Fougner examin- 
ing marine fauna 
on the left and 
Mr. Evans packing 
eggs. Lieutenant 
Colbeck is on the 
right repairing a 

"Soon the ice 
broke up in 
Robertson Bay, 
and it was inter- 
esting to see the 
great number of 
monsttous ice- 
bergs sailing 
Straight in against 

a heavy gale and running aground. On 
the 27th of January I took with me Savio 
and two kayaks, with provisions for a week, 
to investigate a track which I had found in 
the snow, and which had undoubtedly been 
left by one of the dogs of the departing 
Southern Cr$ss f and not by one of our own 
pack. When we could follow the track no 
longer up the steep glacier slopes we camped 
on the very beach where Mr Fougner and 
myself had nearly lost our lives- On this 


TttlEO IN 

by \j 







occasion, too, we were fated to run a great 
risk, We had just finished a meal, and I 
had crawled into my kayak to have a sleep — 
the little boat being pulled up on the slope 
under the cliff — when suddenly an avalanche 
of stones and snow rushed down, nearly 
burying my kayak, while some of the stones 
fell in all directions about me, missing me in 
the most providential manner, 

"On the 28th of January the Southern 
Cross returned, and Captain Jensen entered 
Camp Ridley with a mail from Europe. 
Rushing out we saw the ice-covered masts 
and yards of the vessel. 

"We were simply starving for news from 
the great world beyond. For the first time 
we heard about the Transvaal War and the 
wonderful discoveries in wireless telegraphy. 

"Then came preparations for the south- 
ward journey. Dogs, sledges, stores, etc., were 
put on board, and 
after a visit to poor 
Hanson's grave we 
all followed. On the 
eveningof the 2nd of 
March we steamed 
away from Camp 
Ridley, and once 
more I had the 
entire expedition of 
thirty souls under 
my command* We 
constantly landed to 
make observations, 
and the next photo, 
shows a loaded 
sledge on one of 
these occasions on 
its way 'farthest 
south/ about twenty 
miles west of Cape 
Washington. Here 
w^s ft fine camping- 

ground of about a 
hundred acres, not 
far from where vol- 
canic Mount Mel- 
bourne rises about 
io t oooff. 

"On the 10th of 
March we sighted 
Mounts Erebus and 
Terror, the former 
being in activity* 
I landed at the foot 
of Mount Terror 
with Col beck, Jen- 
sen, and two sailors. 
It was a very low 
gravel beach, formed by a * rush J from the cliff 
500ft. above. This beach was about 10ft. broad, 
and the highest point only about 4ft. above sea 
level. We collected some specimens, and gave 
cheers for Ross, the Duke of York, and Sir 
George Newnes. Suddenly a thunderous 
noise was heard overhead. Immediately 
both Jensen and myself realized that the 
glacier lying immediately to the west of our 
little beach was giving birth to an iceberg. 
With a perfectly deafening roar a vast body 
of ice plunged into the sea, and a white cloud 
of snow and water enveloped everything. 

" I foresaw what would follow. A raging, 
rushing, tidal wave shot up like a wall out of 
the sea with the plunge of the great ice mass, 
and the wave seemed to grow as it raced 
towards our little ledge, which is so admirably 
depicted in the next photo. When the wave 
struck us it was from 15ft. to 20ft high, I 


U CDC I TV C\L AJ.irui?:.'. Kl 




called to Jensen to struggle for lift. The 
wave struck me first. Masses of ice were 
hurled against my back, but I clung desper- 
ately to the rock until my fingers bled. I 
had just time to call out again to Jensen 
when the icy waters closed above my head. 
When it passed Jensen was still at my side, 
thank God ! Successive waves were several 
feet lower, only up to our armpits, in fact ; 
but the backward suck of the water as it was 
hurled back from the cliffs tried us almost 
beyond our strength* Were it not for the 
projecting ice shelf, which appeared to break 
the wave in its advance quite close to 
us, we must have been smashed against the 
rocks. About ten yards farther on, where 
there was no protecting ice-ledge, the wave 

could ^et several miles inland, so I consider 
Newnes Land a likely place for other expe- 
ditions to winter in, and a good place for 
making observations. 

"Towards the southeast Mount Terror 
runs into the sea, and here we found a large 
penguin colony, From the crater of Erebus 
clouds of smoke shot out spasmodically into 
the frosty air. The cold was intense, and 
the ship became covered with several feet of 
ice. In the intervals between the snow- 
squalls enormous icebergs hove in sight. At 
length 1 discovered a break in the great 
barrier, and here I effected a landing, accom- 
panied by Lieutenant Colbeck. Travelling 
south I presently reached 78deg. 5omin., 
which is the most southerly point ever 


tore away pieces of rock 20ft, above our 
heads. Far out at sea were Colbeck and the 
two sailorSj who had witnessed the whole 
occurrence* Indeed, he himself was called 
upon to display great presence of mind in 
order to save his boat from being swamped, 

"The next photo, shows the Southern 
Cross at Mount Melbourne, near Newnes 
Land, which lies on the coast between Cape 
A dare and Victoria Land, at the base of a 
long peninsula terminating in Cape Washing- 
ton, There is a place here where one 

yd. kk + -33 

Digitized by V^OOQ IC 

reached by man." The next photo, shows 
this important and historical scene. "On 
the 20th of February the voyage towards 
civilization was commenced, and on the 4th 
of April I dispatched the following com- 
munication to London : — 

" l Object of expedition carried out. South 
Magnetic Pole located Farthest south with 
sledge record 7 8 50. Zoologist Hanson 
dead. All well on board. — BokCHGREViNK, 1 

il With regard to the widespread idea of an 
impassable barrier of ice - precipices/' con- 
Original from 






eluded Mr. Borchgrevink, " I should like to 
say a few words. There certainly is a great 
wall of ice, some of it a hundred feet 
high ; hut the main obstacle to exploration 
inland on the Antarctic 
Continent is the stupendous 
altitudes and the steepness 
of the slopes in the interior 
I don't think that any ex- 
pedition will ever actually 
reach the South Magnetic 
Pole; winch, by the way, 
is si tun ted about 220 miles 
W, by N. of Wood Bay, 
in lat. 7320 Sj and long. 
T46'o R 1 believe there 
is a vast continent there 
— a mass of rock, ice, 
and volcanoes, with no 
trees, 110 flowers, no 
animals, no birds — in 
short, no signs ofltfe except 
the lichen and reindeer 
moss ; also a lichen. 

"There was not much 
humour or hm in our 
experiences, and the 
first suspicion of the 


lighter side was encountered at Hobart, 
where at a garden party a dignified elderly 
(and slightly deaf) lady, hearing something 
about 'dogs' and * two Finns,' looked at the 
narrator with intense admi- 
ration, f Good heavens ! 
what a scientific discovery, 1 
she said. * Fhncy Jags 
with two fins J* " 

Readers of The Stkand 
may be glad to know that 
Mr. Borchgrevink's book 
will be published about 
October next, and will con- 
tain the leader's complete 
and detailed account of all 
his adventures and achieve- 
ments, will be copiously 
illustrated with beautiful 
and impressive photos., of 
which the foregoing ones 
are excellent examples, 
and will form an indis- 
pensable record of 
Mr. B or eh gre vi n k's 
eventful journey, " Farthest 




Original from 

Ambulance Dogs in the German Army. 

By Frederick A* Talbot, 

T has been said that the most 
comforting companion to a 
man is his dog. Certainly, 
tew members of the brute 
■;reation possess the intelli- 
gence, sagacity, fidelity, and 
reliability with which this animal is so 
characteristically gifted. The shepherd would 
sooner part with his home than be deprived 
of his faithful collie— the safeguard of his 
Sock. Then what an unfading, glorious roll 
of fame is associated with the dogs of St. 
Bernard in their heroic rescues of exhausted 
travellers from death, Numerous instances 
could be cited where the dog has rendered 
invaluable services as life- 
save^ messenger, guardian, 
and what not. But it is 
extremely doubtful whether 
the animal has ever been 
subjected to a stranger and 
more dangerous, albeit 
humane and necessary, 
service than that for which 
it is retained in the German 
army. The military author- 
ities of that country have 
trained the dog to become a 
four footed member of the 
Red Cross Society, to min- 
ister to and to succour the 
wounded on the battlefield, 
besides fulfilling other duties 
which it would be either 
impossible, or undesirable, 
for an ordinary soldier to 
fulfil,* Needless to say the 
dog, with its innate proclivity, has accom- 
modated itself to the requirements of its new 
duties, notwithstanding their arduous nature, 
with t;reat readiness, and has already proved 
itself to be, under certain conditions, a more 
apt and thorough servant than the soldier 

The idea of utilizing the dog upon the 
battlefield emanated from Herr J. Bungartz, 
the celebrated German animal painter and 
author. It was fifteen years ago, in 1885, 
that he first devoted his energies towards the 
training of these clever little animals, and 
with such success have his efforts been 

Digitized by Gi 

Fntm a) 


crowned that he has received the grateful 
thanks of all the leading officers in the 
German army. Questioned as to what 
induced Herr Bungartz to employ the dog in 
this unique capacity, he replied : — 

( * In reading the results of sanguinary 
conflicts I have always been impressed with 
the large number of men that are counted as 
* missing.' The term is far-reaching and 
ambiguous in its significance. It neither 
implies that the men are prisoners, wounded, 
killed, nor escaped. In the Franco-German 
War the loss on the German side in 
1 missing ' alone was proved to be very large 
indeed. Turning to the present conflict in 
South Africa, what a large 
number of English soldiers 
have been reckoned in the 
casualty lists under that 
ominous heading ! Their 
relatives and friends have 
not the remotest idea as to 
whether they are alive or 
dead, and in many instances 
they have never been seen 
or heard of again- An 
officer in the German army, 
Major-General Von Herget, 
has rightly asked, *\Vhat is 
the use of all the progress 
we make in medical science 
if the wounded are not 
found?' Well, I considered 
that some means should be 
established to discover the 
wounded, and as I have 
always evinced such an 
enthusiastic interest in animals, particularly 
in dogs, it occurred to me that it would be 
possible to utilize the canine intelligence and 
sagacity to accomplish such a humane and 
beneficial object." 

" Did you experience any difficulty in the 
training of the animals?" I asked. 

14 Well, the work was arduous at first," he 
replied. " It required unremitting attention, 
since the work was absolutely new to them. 
But by dint of perseverance and patience, 
together with kind treatment, the clever 
animals soon became accustomed to the 
work. They are mainly employed for the 





from a] 


{ PhiMtO. 

searching of the battlefield for wounded 
soldiers, and bringing those found to the 
notice of the ambulance-bearers, also to act 
as messengers ; but the former duty is that 
for which they have been principally trained. 
A big battle, the fighting-line of which may, 
as has been the case in South Africa, stretch 
over a frontage of twenty miles > and be 
followed up for several miles, necessarily 
means a larye expanse of country for the 
stretcher bearers to search for those who have 
fallen. If the brittle has been a keenly con- 
tested one, the number 
of wounded is necessarily 
large, and it is impos- 
sible for the ambulance- 
bearers to attend to them with 
that urgency and dispatch 
which it is expedient should 
be employed. When they 
have been brought to the 
ground, the wounded soldiers 
with their last remaining 
strength drag themselves 
away to some sheltered 
position so as to be safe from 
the fierce rays of the sun, 
and also to escape the enemy's 
fire. They crawl along until 
forced to stop from sheer 
exhaustion. They lose con- 

sciousness, and, perhaps, in that interval of 
senselessness the ambulance - bearers pass 
that way, and the wounded man is over- 
looked. Or, again, he may be so exhausted 
that, although the ambulance -bearers may 
pass within a few feet of him, he may be too 
weak to cry out for help, Still, he hopes 
against hope, and looks anxiously for that 
assistance which never comes, and after hours 
of hard struggling dies. If he had remained 
where he had fallen he would have been found 
and succoured. Many a wounded soldier has 
been found dead, where it was proved that 
had help reached him an hour or two before 
he would have been saved. After nightfall 
the work of the ambulance- bearers, difficult 
though it has been throughout the day, is 
rendered exceedingly more so. Then they 
are only able to render aid to those who are 
lying immediately in their path, while those 
who have sought shelter in the ditches, 
furrows , or in the undergrowth are uncon- 
sciously left to languish in their pain* Hut 
with the employment of ambulance dogs 
such is not the case. The wonderful instinct 
of the animals guides them directly to the 
spot where a wounded man is lying, wherever 
it may be, and the ambulance- bearers follow- 
ing up in the rear are piloted to the spot by 
the dog," 

The outfit of the dog consists of a little 
saddle- bag fastened round his body. This 
contains a small quantity of nourishing and 
stimulating refreshments. Then he also 
carries a small supply of surgical bandages 
in a wallet something similar to that which 
is sewn up in the coat of evt-ry English 
soldier, and which the man can utilize for 
the purpose of binding up his own wounds 
if he is sufficiently strong to do so. Over 

by LiGOglC 






these two bags is wound a coverlet with a 
large Red Cross imprinted upon it, to 
designate the mission in which the dog is 
engaged. The dog is accompanied by a con- 
ductor. When the battlefield is reached the 
dog immediately commences its search, and 
so sensitive are its faculties that it will trace 
out the concealed wounded with astonishing 
celerity and surety. When it has found the 
man it lies down beside him and attracts his 
attention. The man, if he be not too 
exhausted, releases the saddle bag containing 
the refreshments, and also the surgical bon- 
dages. The dog remains by him, and 
presently, if the man has regained his 
strength and bound up his wounds, he follows 
the dog, who guides him quickly back to the 
conductor, who in turn signals the ambulance- 
bearers, and the rescued soldier is quickly 
removed to the hospital* If, when the dog 
reaches a wounded man, and after lying 
beside him for a few minutes finds that 
the soldier makes no effort to obtain the 
food, the animal recognises intuitively 
that something serious is amiss, and accord- 
ingly hastens back to his conductor, who, 

tion to the foregoing accoutrements adjusted 
to its body the animal is provided with a 
little bell upon its collar, something similar to 
the sheep-hell, which is constantly tinkling. 
The wounded soldiers are able to hear this 
tinkling, and the slightest movement they 
may make is immediately realized by the dog, 
since its ear is far more sensitive than the 
human ear, so that it is enabled to perceive 
sounds which are absolutely inaudible to the 
conductor, The tinkling bell also serves as 
a guide to the latter when he is being 
piloted to the spot where the wounded man 
is lying- The conductor is provided with a 
small acetylene lamp, with a powerful reflector, 
so that a brilliant white light is cast over a 
wide area upon the ground. The sagacity 
and intelligence displayed by these dogs are 
marvellous, They are indefatigable in their 
efforts and they never make a mistake, 
though some of the conditions under which 
they pursue their errands of mercy and 
humanity are sufficiently trying to render 
them almost incapable. 

The kennels for the dogs are at Lechenich, 
at which place they also undergo their 

from a\ 



seeing that the bag on the animal's back has 
not been touched, and answering the dog's 
mule appeals, follows it, and is soon brought 
to the wounded soldier, who was, perhaps, 
too weak to assist himself upon the dog's 
former visit. 

But it is at night that the dog displays its 
cleverness to the best advantage. In addi- 


systematic training under the supervision 
of Herr J. Rungartz himself, assisted by his 
son and one or two other interested 
gentlemen and military officers. The Red 
Cross dogs are owned by a society of which 
Herr Bungartz is the president, and which 
now possesses some 700 members, who pay 
an annual subscription towards the support 




of the association. The society has received 
the highest patronage in the country, and alt 
the prominent officials, both in the Civil and 
Military Administrations, are interested in its 
welfare and the introduction of the dogs upon 
the battlefield. The training of the dogs is 
purely complimentary, neither is any charge 
levied upon the dogs when they are taken 
over by the military authorities. 

It will undoubtedly be a satisfactory 
point to the inhabitants of this 
country to know that the dogs best 
adapted, and indeed the only ones 
that can accomplish this task, are the 
Scotch collies* Not the modern 
collie, however, which has some- 
what deteriorated in the essential 
characteristics for which it has so 
long been famed, but the old type 
of collie, which is somewhat difficult 
to obtain nowadays. Naturally the 
dogs should be taken in hand while 
they are young, as the labour of 
training is thus much facilitated. 

M Have you yet been able to 
adequately prove the services these 
dogs would render upon the battle- 
field ? " I then inquired. 

" We have not yet experimented 
with them upon anactual battlefield," 
was his reply, " but we have attended 
several military manoeuvres, in which 
the dogs have acquitted themselves 
so magnificently that they have 
earned unstinted praise from some 
of the leading officers in the German 
army. One of the most compre- 
hensive and difficult trials we have 
conducted was at Coblentz last year 
by the order of the officer com- 
manding the Eighth Army Corps* 
The dogs were subjected to a very 
exacting test under adverse condi- 
tions, both by day and night As 

may be supposed, the latter was the 
more difficult. Two hundred soldiers 
were ordered to lie out upon the 
field to represent the wounded. 
Some of them simply lay in the 
open, but others were ordered to 
conceal themselves in the shrubbery, 
undergrowth, and in such places, 
A base hospital was improvised, and 
at first the ambulance- bearers, to the 
number of 500, equipped with 
lanterns throwing a brilliant light, 
were ordered to search the field to 
minister to the wounded and to 
bring all those they discovered back 
to the hospital. When they had searched the 
field the dogs were called out together with 
their conductors* There were four dogs : 
Castor, with Mr. Moers ; Tominka, with Non- 
commissioned Officer Herin ; Sepp, with my 
son ; and Resi^ conducted by myself, I 
started first with Resi, followed shortly after- 
wards by my son and the others. The 
ground was terribly uneven and quite strange 
to the dogs. Then, again, we were followed 


IVfllTirtfG A MES 



by C^OOgle 




by the principal officers conducting the ex- 
periments, riding on horseback, with the 
ambulance - bearers bringing up the rear. 
The noise of the horses 1 hoofs, together 
with that of the stretcher-bearers, consider- 
ably disturbed the dogs, so that no little 
difficulty was experienced in inducing them to 
settle down to the work in hand. Presently, 
however, they regained their usual quiet- 
ness and proceeded steadily with their task. 
The search commenced in the Forest of 
Coblentz, where twelve men had successfully 
concealed themselves. The work, therefore, 
under these circumstances, could not have 
been more difficult had it been conducted 
under the condi- 
tions of grim 
reality. In one 
place, while jump- 
ing a wide ditch,. 
Resi broke a small 
lantern which she 
was carrying- The 
twelve men, how- 
ever, were very 
soon revealed by 
the two dogs Resi 
and Sepp, while 
the other two 
animals also dis- 
covered six men 
that had been well 
hidden in another 
part of the forest, 
"The following 
day a simikr test 
was undertaken, 
this time in broad 
daylight. The 
same number 
of soldiers were laid 
and the Ambulance 

Eighth) Army Corps to take over ambulance 

"Was it a difficult matter to induce the 
military authorities to favour the scheme?" 
was my next inquiry. 

"No, they warmly favoured our scheme 
fro m i ts very beg inning. We expe r i en ced g rea t 
difficulty, however, in obtaining the necessary 
facilities to employ the dogs at the man- 
oeuvres. When w*e founded the society for 
some time we were working in the dark, and 
were completely at a loss to know whether our 
dogs were advantageously placed in case of 
need* The military authorities, however, came 
to our aid by taking over some of the dogs, 

From a ; 



out as wounded, 
Corps made a 
thorough search of the field. Then the 
dogs were brought into action, and at the 
end of twenty minutes, when the command 
of * halt' was given, they had discovered no 
fewer than eighteen men concealed in ditches, 
among the dense undergrowth, and so forth, 
who had been completely overlooked by the 
stretcher-bearers. Eighteen men missing 
out of two hundred wounded is a large per- 
centage ! What an enormous number it 
would represent, in a proportionate degree, 
after a large battle w T here the wounded can 
be counted in their thousands ! The com- 
manding officer was so convinced by this 
conclusive test of the superiority of 
the dogs 111 this remarkable work that he 
advised the different regiments in his (the 

Digitized byt_T< 

and the majority of them are in good hands, so 
that I am sure, at the psychological moment, 
they will acquit themselves with perfect 
success and satisfaction. But I am sorry to 
say that in some cases faulty treatment of 
the creatures exists, and therefore it cannot 
be expected that they will, in time ol" need, 
accomplish their work so well as those which 
have been kindly and persistently trained. 

Remembering that Herr Bungartz had 
mentioned that the dogs would be employed 
for other purposes in addition to their am- 
bulance duties, I inquired the nature of these 
additional duties. 

11 They can be employed for the trans- 
mission of messages* and they prove very 
fleet messengers indeed/* was his answer, 
"One dog, which was stationed at Coburg,was 
trained specially for this work, His training 


2 $4 


ftVHfl flj 

runs comprised distances of about 150yds., 
and were undertaken in varying weathers, 
so that he might become thoroughly accus- 
tomed to the work. He accompanied his 
master through the manoeuvres, and on one 
occasion carried a message over a distance of 
about a mile and a half in the rapid time of 
four minutes, and this notwithstanding the 
fact that he was considerate y hindered on 
his journey by the inhabitants of one or two 
hamlets through which he passed. This 
particular dog is out training about five 
times a week, generally in the early morning, 
so that you will recognise that the training 
of the dogs necessitates considerable patience 
and time, so that it should not only 
remember what it has learned, but should 
be taught new things as well 

11 Then, in addition to carrying messages, 
they could be requisitioned to carry ammuni- 
tion from the waggons up to the firing line ; 
to guard baggage, and also to insure the 
safety of the outposts at night. For this 
last duty they are peculiarly adapted on 
account of their keen sense of hearing ; so 
that the outpost would receive tidings of the 
approach of an enemy by the behaviour of 
the dog long before any movements were 
audible to his own ear." 

Last year this society trained seven new 

dogs, which have now been attached to the 
medical corps stationed at Cologne, W iirtem- 
berg, Straubing, Umdau, Siichtcln, him bach, 
and Hohenlimburg respectively. There are 
several other dogs in course of training at 
present, and they will doubtless be attached 
to other corps when they have completed 
their inculcation, last year the cost of 
training and maintaining the dogs and 
kennels amounted to about ^130. Of 
course, the dogs are not retained at the 
head-quarters at Lechenich any longer than 
is possible after their course of training has 
been completed, but they are attached to 
some regiment. 

It is the desire of Herr Bungaitz that the 
utilization of dogs in connection with ambu- 
lance work should become international. In 
developing his scheme he has been simply 
animated by the desire to mitigate, as far 
as possible, the horrors of war, and to 
make the lot of the wounded easier. He is 
quite prepared to divulge his method of 
training the dogs, which is peculiarly his 
own, to the Government of any nation* The 
success of the scheme has been adequately 
proved in the case of the German army. 
Will our military authorities make a similar 
introduction of canine ambulance workers 
into the British Army? 

by Google 

Original from 

The Story of a Strange Speculation. 

By Neil Wynn Williams. 



AM a captain upon the half- 
pay list of the Royal Navy. It 
will be exactly two years to- 
morrow since I was compul- 
sorily retired under the " age- 
limit" clause. I quitted the 
Service with a somewhat peculiar " specialist " 
reputation — that of a heavy-weight lifter and 
transporter. In my time I have successfully 
sea-carried and mounted some of the biggest 
guns that we have at our foreign stations — 
notably the no-ton gun at Gibraltar. It was 
I who brought the Red Sphinx from Egypt in 
'76. And here is my "Gayhurst's Manual." 
It is in its sixth edition, and still remains the 
standard work for its subject 

My enforced retirement found me still 
possessed of the energy of a young man. 
Gub life soon palled and grew monotonous. 
An idle life did not suit me. I admitted to 
myself that I wanted employment A little 
later I was telling friends the same thing. 
Months dragged by unprofitably. I could 
hear of nothing suitable. Then suddenly, 
at the instance of a third party, correspon- 
dence passed between me and a Mr. Robert 
Setchell, representing tne Educative Pleasures 
Company. On December 15th, '98, I wired 
from Hertford : " Yes. I will come to town. 
To-morrow at 11 a.m. will suit me." 

I was staying with relations. " But this is 
all very sudden. Must you really leave us 
to-morrow ? " they asked. 

" Yes," I said ; adding, with a smile, " I 
am going up about an appointment to the 
Educative Pleasures Company." 

" An ' appointment to the— whatl" my 
pretty cousin, Agnes, asked, lifting her eye- 

44 To 4 The Educative Pleasures Company? " 
I repeated, with emphasis. 

She put a question, rapidly, with a half 
laugh of incredulity : — 

44 The Educative Pleasures Company ! 
What on earth is that ? " 

I drew from my pocket a type-written 
letter. She read it in silence. 

44 But I don't understand from this ! " she 
said, returning the letter to me. 44 It does 
not explain. . What is the nature of the 
appointment that this Mr. Setchell alludes 

"lam to know to-morrow," I said. 
..." And you. think "she urged. 

44 1 really don't know," I replied. 44 The 

VoL «.-34. 

by ^OOglC 

man applies to me on the strength of my 
reputation for moving heavy weights. The 

work may be But it is impossible to 


44 How funny ! " said my cousin. And we 
both laughed. 

Some men have a head for City topography. 
I never had ; and, looking around, I crossed 
the road to a constable. 

44 Axwick Buildings ? Yes, sir," he replied, 
44 First to the right, second on the left— left- 
'and side." 

Less than five minutes' walk brought me 
beneath the sooty cornices of a towering 
block of white brick. Perusing a column of 
brass plates I read, 44 The Educative Pleasures 
Company, fourth floor." There followed the 
presentment of a hand, pointing to a wooden 
staircase, whose steps were bound with dull 
lead plates battered and gaping at their edges. 

I began to ascend, following the short 
angles of the stairs around to the first, and 
up and up to the fourth floor. There my atten- 
tion was guided to a small inquiry cabinet, 
with a brass wire grating. 44 I have an 
appointment with Mr. Setchell, of 4 The 
Educative Pleasures Company,' " I said, 
approaching it and peering in upon the pale 
face of a little lad. 4 * There is my card." 

A delay ensued. The lad, rocking a high, 
three-legged stool away from his desk, de- 
scended and opened the door of the cabinet. 
Taking my card, he traversed the right- 
hand corridor to its extreme end, where he 
knocked at another door and disappeared. 
The half-light and silence of the landing did 
not impress me favourably while I waited. I 
found myself restless and vaguely anxious 
to come face to face with Mr. Setchell. 
Suddenly the boy reappeared. 44 This way, 
please, sir," he invited, motioning me 

I passed hastily by the lad, and, swinging 
to my left, entered a lofty room. An unex- 
pected sunshine that was pouring in through 
! plate-glass windows dazzled my eyes and 
brought me to a halt. There was a thud 
from the door as it closed home behind. 
Then I saw the head and shoulders of a 
stout man rise before me and lean forwards 
over a square desk. 

44 Yes," I said, taking the outstretched 
hand, ." I am Captain Gayhurst." And I 
noticed with repugnance that the shiny face 
into which I was gazing possessed no eyebrows. 





Mr, Setchell was very voluble. 1 was 
scarcely seated before I found myself listen- 
ing to an explanation of the objects of M The 
Educative Pleasures Company.'* 

"As I understand you, the Company 
wishes to amuse and at the same time to 
instruct the public ? " I remarked. 

41 You have hit it. That is our 4 draw J I " 
Mr, Setchell replied, rubbing his hands. 

I looked hard at him, " And the nature 
of the entertainment that would pay under 
these conditions?" I inquired. 

An expression of cunning came into Mr. 
Setchell 's smooth, round face, 

"Ah!" said he, "that is why we are 
applying to you, Captain.' 1 

41 To me ? " I repeated, interrogatively, 

"Yes, to you" he said, with emphasis. 
"To you, Captain Gayhurst, who will 
carry our scheme through for us. Listen ! 
Nowadays the public want and will have 
sensation. And sensation is but another 
word for novelty. Well, the 4 Educative 
Pleasures Company ' intends to give it to 
them iu an instructive, high class form." 
Mr, Setchell rose to his feet, and approached 
a large map hanging from the wall. "See 
here!" he resumed, motioning me to his 
side; "we want you to take "a flotilla of 

three powerful steam tugs up to 
this po:nt J — he placed a finger 
upon the map, south of Cape 
Farewell, at the junction of the 
Polar currents of Greenland and 
I^abrador— "and tow us back an 
iceberg ! You will ground and 
anchor it in this mud creek.'' He 
indicated a position on the Essex 
coast, in immediate vicinity to the 
Nore, " And the Company will 
make its money out of the excur- 
sions that will organize from 
London for the grand natural 
spectacle. So much to see ! So 
much to ascend and dine upon 
the summit ! " 

As he finished, Mr. Setchell's 
tone was the magniloquent tone 
of a showman- 
as intensely surprised at his pro- 
** It is a large order, Mr. Setchell ," 
, after a pause ; "I doubt whether 
'Why not?" he asked, forcibly, i( The 
icebergs will be there. You will have steam- 
power to tow. 1 ' 

" But the farther south we bring a berg 
the faster tt will melt," I objected, "And 
by the time— — -" 

" Psutt ! " Mr. Setchell exclaimed, inter- 
rupting me roughly, "you will calculate your 
speed with reference to the daily ice waste. 
You must bring us home a mass of ice that 
will last at least three months sure* 1 He 
turned a fierce eye upon me. 

"The towing of the berg will be difficult. 
Aye, and ■dangerous/' I suggested, thought- 

" You'd see it through," Mr, Setchell 
replied, sanguine!). And he stated the rate 
of pay the company were prepared to give 
me— so much per month, and a percentage 
of the net profits. It was a tempting offer. 

" I must take time to consider," I replied, 
after a pause. 

"Do so," said Mr. Setchell. "The ex- 
pedition will start about June, so as to meet 
the bergs when they float down with the 
currents to the 45 parallel/' 

I turned to leave. He checked meat the door. 
" You think it possible ?" he urged. 
" The shareholders' nsk wt/sf of necessity 
be great," I replied, cautiously, 

" And the profits shall be in proportion ! " 
said Mr, Setchell with the ardour of a 
speculator, an extraordinary determination 
suddenly freezing the smile of his mouth into 
a set grip of tooth upon tooth. 




There was so much to be done. Time 
was precious. " What name ? " I inquired, 
testily, looking up from the calculation upon 
which I was at work. 

"'Stilhnan/ sir," 

"Show him in ! " I replied, 

A tall, thin man entered. 

" You wished to see me ? " I said. 

" I did so, Captain/* And saluting me 
after the manner of a sailor, the stranger began 
to disentangle some papers from the pocket 
gF a shabby pilot-coat that he was wearing. 

I waited in observant silence. Presently 
the papers were Free, and stepping forwards 
to my desk he laid them lightly down before 
me. " You'll see by these, sir, that I was 
once skipper and owner of the barque Mary 
Ann, sailing from Newcastle to London, A 
domned London rogue has robbed me o 1 the 
lot. I wish to sign on with yer in your 
expedition under the Educative Pleasures." 

My sympathies always go out to a sailor in 
distress. "But I am full up," I said, speak- 
ing very ktndly ; " I have no berths left save 
for ordinary seamen," 

"I have been robbed. AW, I ain't 
noways above six pound a month and wttals 
the ex- 
said, sim- 

I look- 
ed at him. 
The man 
was mus- 
there was 
work in 

II Leave 
your pa- 
pers, i f 
youlike } "I 
said, " and 
I'll let you 
know this 

tain," he 

i( speaking 
as sailor to 
sailor T I 
am obliged 
to yer, " 

I nod- 
ded an 

end to the interview, Still man turned to 
leave the room. He hesitated at the door, 
suddenly asking a strange question of me 
over his shoulder : — 

u Captain, do you hold shares in the 
Educative Pleasures ? " 

" No, I don't," I said, startled into an 
open answer. 

"I'm glad o' that," he remarked, closing 
the door between us, 

The ex-skipper left me puzzled by his last 
words. Afterwards, "Another who thinks 
that it will be a failure," I muttered to 
myself, explanatorily, with a smile. 

The expedition steamed out of the Thames 
towards the end of June, equipped with 
everything that foresight could provide to 
insure success, A preliminary use of ad- 
vertisement by Mr Setchell had already 
interested the public in it, The newspaper 
accounts of our departure will be within 
your memory. It was a relief for me to find 
myself at sea and quit of the final fuss and 
excitement of our "send-oft" 

Upon the morning of the 3rd of July, 
while in latitude 45deg. north, we received 
indications of ice being in our vicinity. A 




by GoOglC 



sudden fall in the thermometer occurred. It 
was accompanied by a ihiii, white fog, From 
my position on the tug No. i I signalled 
an order to my two consorts to go very 
cautiously at quarter-speed. The precaution 
was justified. An outburst of sunshine just 
twenty minutes afterwards showed us a fleet 
of bergs on every side. The spectacle was 
magnificent. Ice I had seen. But these 
ponderous bulks flashing their white, or blue, 
or green — adrip with sparkling rivulet or 
cascade — surging from the surface of the 
leaden sea their pinnacle or turret towards 
the blue heaven ! An enthusiasm came upon 
me at the thought of towing one to England. 
w Another. Hip ! hip," I shouted to the 
sailors as they cheered the work before them, 
A his, could I but have seen into the future — 
1^ who would not willingly hurt a fly ! 

The Educative Pleasures Company had 
commissioned me to bring to England a 
berg within the rough limits of a certain 
size and height In making a selection 
from those around us I had to allow for the 
losses that would be occasioned by thaw and 
evaporation during transit. I chose an ice- 
island some acres in superficies, lying at the 
centre of the berg fleet. It rose to a height 
of 200ft. above the sea, drawing, therefore, 
some i, 6 oof t. of water. Its oblong, evenly- 
weighted shape gave promise of stability. 
As a further advantage it possessed a 
shelving shore, strewn with black rocks 
carried from the mother glacier, 
upon which I could land the 
men and stores necessary 
to establish my machinery. 

The vicinity of the other 
bergs made me 
anxious for the 
safety of my tugs. 
We began imme- 
diately to unload 
the sections of the 
great rudder with 
which I intended 
to steer the berg 
from one of its 
ends. It took us 
four days to get 
the enormous 
weight into posi- 
tion. Meanwhile 
divers had been 
working at the 
other end of the 
icy oblong, fasten- 
ing an ice anchor 
into the berg be- 

low its water-line. So — I had mathematically 
calculated that the strain of the cable from 
No. i tug, drawing upon that especial spot, 
would allow the berg to retain its perpendicular 
position during transit. Upon the fifth day after 
our arrival they reported a cable fast ; and I had 
the berg towed from the midst of the icy flotilla 
slowly but surely three miles out to the open 
sea. Night then fell with a beacon blazing 
ruddily from the summit of the snowy island. 
At 12 p.m. a steamer approached us, think- 
ing that the berg was a ship afire. Upon the 
following morning the divers again went to 
work. It took them three more days to affix 
similar ice-anchors to the right and left sides 
of the oblong for Nos. 2 and 3 tugs to be 
joined up. Immediately afterwards we 
began to tow under full steam for England 
— the tugs in the formation of an equilateral 
triangle — No. 1 leading with the longest 

The barometer was falling, swiftly, with the 
approach of night. It was unlucky, after a 
fair voyage, that a storm should seem immi- 
nent just as we were approaching the dan- 
gerous navigation of the English Channel 
I decided to remain on board the tug for 
another half-hour. If the sea and the wind 
should increase, I would then command from 
the position of greatest danger — from the 
heavily rolling berg. The stability of the 

latter appeared to 

be threatened. 

The arc 


by the red 


of the 


by Google 

Original from 

V F.F i . 



beacon, as it was rushed windily across the 
clouds of the murky heavens, grew increasingly 
dangerous. Another ten degrees, and I shud- 
dered to think that there must be a cataclystic 
inversion— the foot of the great berg would 
upheave resistlessly as the summit went down. 

A message conveying my determination 
was signalled to the watch and steersman of 
tlie berg. I wished to encourage them, 
I,ater, a report was made to me, 

"What! a. man missing?" I exclaimed, 
anxiously, u Who? " 

"Stillman, sir/' was the breathless reply, 

I ordered search to be made immediately 
throughout the tug. But the ex-skipper was 
not to be found. 

"There is still hope/ 1 I said ; t4 he may he 

upon the berg Signal ! No, launch 

the lifeboat. I wish to go there in any case,' 1 
Three minutes later a crew and myself were 
lowered amongst the seething waves, 

We got away after a dangerous grind 

11 You 



against the iron side of the tug, and, pulling 
parallel with the straining hawser, headed 
directly for the shore of the berg. A wave 
took us. The berg lurched, There was a 
moment's frightful suspense. Then we were 
dnvui hruh up the icy ledge, and with a crash 
the timbers of the boat splintered tip beneath 
our feet 

They had watched it from the tugs. A 
cheer came over the raging waves as, aban- 
doning the wrecked boat, we reached the safely 
of higher ice. A little later I signalled to 
No. 1 tug : u Stillman is not upon the berg." 

For reply they lowered a flag to half-mast 

Day was breaking. One could just dis- 
tinguish under a low, grey sky the white foam 
of the waves. There is always reaction after a 
great mental strain. Now that the storm was 
dying away and we were in comparative 
I felt myself nenously irritable, 
saw him! Where? Nonsense, the 
man is drowned/' I said. 

At the centre of the berg was a 
circular depression in the ice — an 
empty basin, perhaps some 6ft. in 
depth, It was into this the watch in- 
sisted that they had just seen Stillman 

I could see by their pale faces 
what was in the men's minds, I wished 
for no tale of a ghost. "Come along," 
I said, roughly, intending to lay the 
superstition once for all. 41 You shall 
see with your own eyes that there is 
no one there/' 

There was a momentary hanging 
back, then the men followed 
in a huddle. A shower of 
sparks issued from the fun- 
nel of No* 2 tug as we 
approached the basin. Im- 
mediately afterwards a black 
figure suddenly uprose, 
lead, shoulders, and body 
out of the declivity. It ran 
furiously towards us. 

"What does this mean, 
Stillman?'' I said, angrily, 
recognising it, 

*'Get back, Captain. Run 
for your lives/' the ex skip- 
per shouted to us, glancing 
over his shoulder towards 
the ice hollow with an 
awful apprehension. And 
seizing my arm he forced 
me back with a madman's 

Original Tram 




" Run ! run ! " Stillman urged, wildly lead- 
ing us away from the basin towards the 
extremity of the berg. 

We arrived there, breathless, panting, 
under the influence of a vague terror. 

I began to question him. 

He interrupted me, fiercely, pointing a 
finger over the dark grey -white of the ice 
towards the basin. " Watch ! " he said. 

The man's manner was not to be denied. 
There was one, two, three seconds' silence, 
save for the thunder of the waves below. 
And then, with a sharp, rending explosion, 
the basin instantaneously upburst with a 
spout of yellow-red flame. There followed 
a frightful agitation of the berg, prostrating, 
upheaving, letting fall, rolling us over ; while, 
with violent bursting sobs, water gushed 
spasmodically up from the scene of the 
explosion like blood from some wounded 
artery. Amidst the thunder of its fall upon 
the ice the berg gradually steadied and 
steadied into a terrified shivering. 

I found myself at the edge of the basin. 
The rending note of dynamite, its odour, 
and its peculiarly coloured flame are not to 
be mistaken. I saw how the berg had been 
saved from a destructive splintering disrup- 
tion. The force of the dynamite, acting 
downwards as it always does, had burst, not 
against solid ice, but into a hollow decay 
going deep into a fang of the berg. The 
bottom of the latter had been blown out, 
and the fearful force harmlessly transmitted 
to the water that was now mounting and 
falling, two hundred feet below me, up the 
blue, sheeny-sided cavity. 

But what was the meaning of this awful 
explosion of dynamite? Asking myself the 
question, I turned hastily about and came 
face to face with Stillman. "I'll make a 
clean breast of it, Captain," he said, flinching 
suddenly before my gaze. 

I heard the ex-skipper in silence to the 
end of his confession. Then I wished to be 
absolutely sure that I had understood. 

"You confess," I said, "that you shipped 
with this expedition, intending to blow up 
the berg ; that with this purpose you brought 
dynamite secretly aboard No. 1 tug, and 
subsequently concealed yourself here in an 
ice cave ? " 

"That is so," the ex-skipper affirmed. 

" You give as your motive that you were 
ruined by a bubble company floated by Mr. 
Setchell, and wished to be revenged upon 
him ? " 

" The truth, as I stand here ! " said the 
ex-skipper, boldly. " It is Robert Setchell 

by LiOOgle 

and no other who owns the Educative Plea- 
sures, and who is running it with mine and 
other moneys that he has robbed." He 
raised his voice passionately : " I say that 
I was in the right to try and wreck the 

" No," I answered, sternly. "Neither you 
nor any other man has the right to risk the 
lives of innocent men in order to punish one 
whom you affirm to be guilty. You have 
committed a crime, Stillman, for which you 
must answer before a court in England.* 
And turning to my men, "Arrest him," I said. 

Strange, strange world ! A moment was 
soon to come when, as a lesser evil of two, I 
regretted that the ex-skipper had failed in his 
criminal attempt to splinter asunder the berg. 


" There is your cheque, Captain," said Mr. 
Setchell, cheerfully, handing my pay to me. 

" You relieve me of all further responsi- 
bility, then ? " I said, tentatively. 

"I do," said Mr. Setchell. "Your con- 
tract has been fulfilled to-day with the 
docking of the berg. To-morrow the excur- 
sions will commence running, under my 
personal supervision." He spoke firmly, 
with a ring of certainty in his tone. 

I was glad to part company with Mr. 
Setchell, feeling very doubtful of his conduct 
towards Stillman in the past. I immediately 
took a cab from Axwick Buildings to my 
rooms in St. James's Street, arriving there at 
6p.m. "What! Safe back again, sir?" 
said my landlady, Mrs. Verner. 

I was too exhausted with anxiety and 
want of sleep to respond thoroughly to the 
worthy woman's greetings. " I must tell you 
all about it to-morrow," I said, allusively. 
" I'll take a hot bath now and go to bed." 

" And you'll have your cup o' tea in the 
morning ? " she suggested, shutting the door 
against an east wind. 

" As usual," I answered, " at nine o'clock.* 1 

A few minutes later I had pulled blinds 
across the last of the evening sunshine and 
was fast asleep. 

The night passed dreamlessly. 

" But it is still dark. You are calling me 
too early," I replied, sleepily, the following 

"There is a fog on, sir," Mrs. Vernet 

"A fog in August/ Pah! London grows 
worse," I grumbled, disgustedly, determining 
to take another hour and a half in bed. 

The gravity of their position only dawned 




upon the millions of London by degrees. It 
was natural that it should be so. The great 
city was accustomed to fogs. And this, the 
latest, would dissipate in the ordinary way 
after causing a few hours 1 enormous in- 
convenience and expense. People grumbled 
at the August phenomenon as I had grumbled 
myself. "Pah! London grows worse." In 
proof of the careless lightness of their first 
mood you will remember the celebrated joke 
that appeared in the evening Supper News — 
11 Why is an August fog in London like a 
man in a tall hat ? " 

And the satiric answer : — , 

*' Because they both exist in spite of the 


Upon the third and fourth days of the 
visitation, however, the steadily increasing 
density of the clouded atmosphere began to 
create serious alarm. From this time 
onwards, wheeled traffic — which had been 
dwindling in volume, Like a brook running 
dry — ceased under the stupendous cloud of 
gloom which was settling thicker and 
thicker over the square miles of street and 
house. Sounds hushed and hjshed. Night 
brought no perceptible change of black 
ness. A dreadful paralysis began to 
pass from the factories into the streets, 
from the streets into the millions of houses. 
Men felt a terrified indisposition to move — 
aye ! and even 
to speak. The 
breath of London 
was passing out 
of it under this 
fearful oppres- 
sion. Business 
was ceasing. Gas, 
and oil, and 
cnndle began to 
fail. 'Hie struts 
filled with miles 
of formless 
gloom. Hear ths 
piteouSj shrilling 
cries of their 

beggars : "Sir, sir, for God's sake ! As you 
hope for Heaven, spare me a little light." 

Pinkerton, of the Meteorological Office, 
was an old friend of mine. His message 
should have reached me sooner than it did, 
There was this delay, and a further delay 
upon my part caused by the difficulty of 
traversing the dreadful darkness of the streets. 
An excitement in his manner communicated 
itself to me at once. " Great Heavens I" I 
exclaimed, presently. "You mean to say 
that this fog is caused by our iceberg ? " 

" There is, there can be, no scientific 
doubt about it," Pinkerton answered- 
" Nothing else but the presence of this ice 
upon the Essex coast will account for the 
lowering of the temperature.*' 

"But would that ' 1 1 began, 

" Yes, with this wind/' he answered, 
anticipating my question. " It must grow 
worse unless the ice is removed." 

My flesh seemed to creep, " H — have you 
notified Setcheli?" I gasped* 

" We have. He will do nothing." 

"Nothing! Why not?" I asked, pas- 

"The man prefers money to the lives of 
his fellow -beings/ 1 Pinkerton answered, acidly. 
14 He babbles about a change of wind and all 
coming righL" 

"Great Hea- 
vens ! n I ex- 
claimed, in horror, 
beating my head 
with my hands. 
"Great Heavens ! 
what am I to do?" 

London still 
exists. It is in 
history how 1 
chartered a boat 
from the lower 
Bridge and 
blew op the 




The Baking Cure, 

By W. B. Northrop. 

AKING alive is the latest 
thing in American medical 
science. Three large human 
bakeries are in operation in 
the United States— in Chicago, 
Philadelphia, and New York 
respectively— and the popularity of the new 
treatment is growing daily. 

Bellevue Hospital, New York City, one of 
the most conservative institutions in America, 
has in operation a full sized baking plant, 
and many doctors of note are prescribing 
"baking" instead of medicine for certain 
forms of disease. 

Preparations are now under* way for 
establishing a bakery in London, and 
already correspondence is being inter- 
changed between the inventor of the 
baking process— Mr. A. V. M. Sprague— 
and the chiels of the medical staff of three of 
London's largest hospitals. As the baking 
of human beings will be new in England, an 
advance description of the novel method 
will prove interesting. 

The application of hot air as a therapeutic 
agent is an old idea. In fact, it is a very old 
one. All that is claimed by the modern 
bakers of persons 
is the manner in 
which the heat is 
applied, and very 
high degrees which 
can be stood—the 
baking of persons 
up to 4oodeg. 
Fahr., which is 
iSSdeg. above the 
boiling point of 
water, being 
quite possible 
without danger to 
the human system. 
The use of heat 
as a remedial 
agent in litluemia 
was known to the 
Pompeiians nine- 
teen hundred years 
ago. The early 
Romans, to the 
number of 25,000 
daily, patronized 

the luxurious baths of Caracalla, the cald- 
arium — or hot-air chamber- -being regarded 
as an important factor. The persons using 
these baths were not the poor or the ignorant, 
but the rich and intefligent classes, who took 
hot-air treatment lying upon marble slabs 
covered with rugs or matting* After the 
"bath "they were rubbed with perfumed oil 
and massaged. In cases of lithsemia many 
effective cures were made by the caldarium, 
and the application of hot air even in those 
early days was a well-recognised fact 

Eveiyone knows to-day how effective is 
heat locally applied in the alleviation of pain. 
Then we have the homely mustard and flax- 
seed plasters and the useful heated stove lid 
as household remedies of unsurpassed 
efficacy. All these things are merely forms 
of applying heat, and in a measure form 
precedents for, if they do not indorse, the 
modern bakeries of which this article treats. 

Recently Doctors I^indouzy, Dejerine, 
and Edouard Chretien, of Paris, have 
reported marked success with the local 
application of hot dry air at temperatures 
varying from 2oodeg. to 2 5odeg. Fahr, in 
acute and chronic rheumatism and in gout. 

From a 


A patient eEiiWriJiWiffcdl TTOITl [w, R Xertkrop. 



2 73 

¥rtm a Photo 


The great difficulty encountered in apply- 
ing hot air at high temperatures is to avoid 
actually cooking the flesh of the patient. 
Ordinarily, when hot air, full of moisture 
arid un ventilated, is applied to living human 
flesh, the danger of burning is imminent. 
Then, again, it has been found that metal or 
other substances, which have to be heated in 
administering the treatment, frequently burn 
the patient 

Mr Sprague, of Rochester, New York, 
after experimenting for a 
number of years, found 
that fibrous magnesia 
would stand high degrees 
of heat without becoming 
too hot for the contact of 
the body of anyone who 
might be resting upon it 
By reposing on a sheet of 
fibrous magnesia one may 
take heat up to even 
4oodeg. without suffering 
great inconvenience. 

The bake ovens for 
human beings consist of a 
series of metal cylinders, 
three forms of ovens being 
used— for the entire body, 
for the arm or lower limbs, 
and for the local applica- 
tion of heat 

The principles of con 
struction of the body, leg, 
and arm machines are 
practically the same, the 
instruments differing only 

Vol. xx.— x. 


in size and shape 
and as to a few 
minor details* 

Three metal 
cylinders are sepa- 
rated by spaces of 
one inch and one 
and one-half inch 
in width respec- 
tively, and are 
open at the ends 
from the walls of 
the machine. The 
outer cylinder is 
of sheet copper 
nickel -plated and 
lined with asbestos 
to prevent external 
radiation of heat. 
It is separated 
from the middle 
or steel cylinder 
by a space connected with three funnels at 
the top, which act as flues for a series of 
Bunsen burners underneath the apparatus. 
These funnels, besides serving the function 
of flues, carry off the products of combustion 
while the body is being baked. Within the 
sheet- steel cylinder is another space one inch 
and a half in width, which separates it from 
the third cylinder, which is of brass, and 
has numerous circular perforations to allow 
the air that is heated by radiation from the 

[ IF. Ii. A'orthrop. 


Fnm a Fhot&, b~ W. If. &vrtf?rvp> 


= 74 


f*ro»+ a f'hoto. bv] 


hot steel to be sent in tiny jets over the 
occupant of the oven — the human loaf, so 
to speak. 

The central space — technically called the 
circulating jacket— is connected with three 
tubes situated within the smoke funnels at 
the top, these tubes allowing the heated air 
to escape, thus regulating the temperature 
and the dryness of the atmosphere in the 
apparatus. At the lower part of the central 
space — where the body is placed — are 
numerous tubes running down and between 
the gas-burners, these tubes sucking up fresh 
air from the room to replace the heated and 
moistened atmosphere driven out at the top 
of the machine* In this way there is con- 
stant circulation. 

The brass perforated cylinder which forms 
the lining of the treatment chamber is 
covered by ribs of eprk, running lengthwise, 
at intervals of one inch apart These cork 
ribs prevent the patient's body or hands 
from coming in contact with the hot cylinder, 
which would burn the flesh. The patient 
lies, as has been said, upon a inat of fibrous 
magnesia, which is separated from the steel 
below by a layer of asbestos. At either end 
of the cylinder and level with the bottom are 
extensions of wood for the head and lower 
limbs to rest upon. The cylinders are 
mounted on massive metal legs. The 
wooden extensions are only on the bolf 
apparatus, and the leg and arm machines 
differ also in having at one end a door of 
glass and metal, which will allow the nurse to 

see the position of the inclosed 
limb. The machines are so 
arranged that they may be ad- 
justed at any angle. 

Before a patient is baked the 
temperature, pulse, and respiration 
are examined, and a thorough 
physical test is made, If it be 
found that the condition of the 
heart or lungs will not justify high 
degrees of heat a low temperature 
is ordered, and vift-vcrsa* The 
patient is wrapped in dry cloths 
before being placed in the oven ; 
the machine is then closed, the 
head, however, being left out; the 
feet are inclosed in heavy canvas 
which is connected with the 
machine by air-tight fastenings; 
the shoulders are also incased in 
canvas, and rest in a species of 
vestibule which allows free play to 
the heated air. 

When the heat is first turned on 
the patient experiences no sensations other 
than mild warmth. A trained nurse is in 
constant attendance during the baking 
process, and the temperature, respiration, 
and so forth are carefully watched. Up to 
about 1 50c! eg. Fahx. little inconvenience is 
felt. Then the patient becomes thirsty. 
Sips of water are given from time to time. 
The giving of water is thought to add 
sonic w ha 1 to the efficacy of the treatment 


From a PHot& by W. B. A'ttrthrvpL. 





through the gentle reaction which it in- 

When iSodeg, have been registered in the 
central cylinder — the degrees being indicated 
on a long thermometer — the patient feels 
thousands of tiny streams of heat impinging 
against his body. These streams are pouring 
through the perforations already mentioned 
as being in the circulating jacket. The 
lower extremities now become somewhat 
numb, and the feet feel as if, to use a 
common expres- 
sion, they had 
"gone to sleep/' 
One seems now 
to be literally 
swimming in per- 
spiration* This 
is given off from 
the top of the 
machine in the 
form of steam, 
which comes out 
through the fun- 
nels in a con- 
tinuous stream. 

At 2oodeg. one 
experiences a 
dreamy sensa- 
tion, and from 
this point up to 
28odet; T the bak- 
ing experience is 
really quite plea- 
sant Water boils 
at 2isdeg, Fahr., 
and yet at 

sSodeg. Fahr. a human being does not suffer 
the least inconvenience. This degree of 
heat — 2 Sod eg. Fahr, — is the average applied 
at most of the Sprague machines, It is 
endured for upwards of an hour. 

In certain cases, however, much higher 
temperatures are required. In some conditions 
from 35ode^. to 4oodeg. Fahr. are necessary. 
Heat at these high degrees is not so very 
pleasant. The body seems to be literally 
roasting. The blood at 35odeg* seems 
actually to be boiling, and can be felt to be 
coursing through the veins at racehorse 
speed. The heart thumps wildly, or else 
seems to have disappeared altogether. Bags 
of ice are constantly applied to the head 
when these degrees of heat are administered* 
Sips of ice water are given from time to time, 

A very remarkable fact in connection with 

Front a Fht*Ui. h^\ 

the baking is that at times the temperature 
of one's body is actually raised five or six 
degrees. In cases of fever this is considered a 
decided advantage, as it brings on the crisis, 
and the reaction sets in much more rapidly 
than it otherwise would. 

After the baking the patient feels weak. 
He is then rubbed, and made to rest until 
completely restored to normal condition. A 
two-hours' rest makes one feel as if he had 
enjoyed a pleasant, dreamless sleep. On going 

out into the air a 
species of exhila- 
ration is experi- 
enced, and one 
seems better 
fitted for mental 
and physical 
exertion than he 
was before the 

The principal 
forms of disease 
in which hot dry 
air is used are : 
Gout, rheuma- 
tism, inflamma- 
tion, lith^mia, 
obesity, cedema, 
and all forms of 
pain— congestive, 
neuralgic, and 
even psychic. 
Some very re- 
markable cures 
have been re- 
ported among 
have already been 


I W, B. AyrlArtlpL 


the 3,000 persons 
baked in America. Persons have been able 
to walk after years of affliction with deforming 
rheumatism, and in certain cases chronic 
forms of disease have been cured. 

Hospitals and physicians all over the 
United States are taking up the treatment. 
At first doctors were extremely cautious in 
reference to the new therapeutic agent, but 
it seems to have at last won its *ay into 
favour. The three principal hot-air hospitals 
are at 33 West 42nd Street, New York ; 1516 
Arch Street, Philadelphia ; and at 330 
Michigan Avenue, Chicago, They are 
called 4( Sprague Hospitals " after the 
inventor of the hot-air cylinders, and the 
technical name for the application of heat 
in this way has given rise to a new word in 
medical nomenclature — it is li Spragueing." 

by Google 

Original from 

The Brass Bottle. 

By F, Anstey. 



HY second question, per^ 
tinacious one?" said the 
Jinnee, impatiently. He was 
standing with folded arms 
looking down on Horace, 
who was still seated on the 
narrow cornice, not daring to glance below 
again, lest he should lose his head altogether. 
11 I'm coming to it," said Ycntimore ; **I 
want to know why you should propose to 
dash me to pieces in this barbarous way as 
a return for letting you out of that bottle. 
Were you so comfortable in it as all that?" 

" In the bottle I was at least suffered to 
rest, and none molested me. Rutin releasing 
me thou didst perfidiously conceal from me 
that Suleyman was dead and gone, and that 
there reigneth one in his stead mightier a 
thousand -fold, who afflictelh our race with 
labours and tortures exceeding all the punish- 
ments of Suleyman." 

11 What on earth have you got into your 
head? You can't mean the Lord Mayor ! " 

" Whom else ? y * said the Jinnee, solemnly. 
"And though, for this once, by a device I 
have evaded his vengeance, yet do I know 
full well that either by virtue of the magic 
jewel upon his breast, or through that 
malignant monster with the myriad ears and 
eyes and tongues, which thou callest 'The 
Press/ I shall inevitably fall into his power 
before long. 11 

For the life of him, in spite of his des[>erate 
plight, Horace could not help laughing. u I 
beg your pardon, Mr + Fakrash," he said, as 
soon as he could speak, ll but — the Lord 
Mayor ! It's rtally too absurd. Why, he 
wouldn't hurt a hair on a fly's head I " 

"Seek not to deceive me further!" said 
Fakrash, furiously. "Didst thou not inform 
me with thine own mouth that the spirits of 
Earth, Air, Water, and Fire were subject to 
his will? Have 1 no eyes? Do I not 
lie hold from here the labours of my captive 
brethren? What are those on yonder bridges 
but enslaved Jinn, shrieking and groaning in 
clanking fetters, and snorting forth steam, as 
they drag their wheeled burdens behind them ? 
Are there not others toiling, with panting 
efforts, through the sluggish waters- others 
a^ain, imprisoned in lofty pillars, from which 
the smoke of their breath ascendeth even unto 
Heaven? Doth not the air throb and 
quiver with their restless struggles as they 

Author of " I'tce-Vcrsd," £h\, ek. 

writhe below in darkness and torment ? 
And thou hast the shamelessness to pretend 

that these things are done in the Lord 
Mayor's own realms without his knowledge ! 
Verily thou must take me for a fool ! " 

"After all," reflected Ventimore, "if he 
chooses to consider that railway engines and 
steamers, and machinery generally, are in- 
habited by so many Jinn 'doing time/ it's 
not to my interest to undeceive him — indeed, 
it's quite the contrary ! " 

"I wasn't aware the Lord Mayor had so 
much power as all that," he said ; " but very 
likely you're right And if you're so anxious 
to keep in favour with him, it would be a 
great mistake to kill me. That would annoy 

"Not so," said the Jinnee, "for I should 
declare that thou hadst spoken slightingly of 
him in my hearing, and that I had slain thee 
on that account" 

w Your proper course," said Horace, 
" would be to hand me over to him, and 
let kirn deal with the case. Much more 

"That may be," said Fakrash, "but I 
have conceived so bitter a haired to thee by 
reason of thy insolence and treachery, that I 
cannot forego the delight of slaying thee with 
my own hand." 

"Can't you really?" said Horace, on the 
verge of despair. "And tken^ what will you 

"Then," replied the Jinnee, "I shall flee 
away to Arabia, where I shall be safe." 

" Don't you be too sure of that ! n said 
Horace, " You see all those wires stretched 
on poles down there ? Those are pervaded 
by certain forces known as electric currents, 
and the Lord Mayor could send a message 
along them which would be at Baghdad 
l>efore you had flown farther than Folkestone. 
And I may mention that Arabia is now more 
or less under British jurisdiction." 

He was bluffing, of course, for he knew 
perfectly well that even if any extradition 
treaty could be put in force, the arrest of a 
Jinnee would be no easy matter 

"Thou art of opinion, then, that I should 
be no safer in mine own country? "' inquired 

* : I swear by the name of the Lord Mayor 
(to whom be all reverence !)," said Horace, 
" that there is no land you could fly to 
where you would be any safer than you are 

Copyright, K,..r\ in the United Slates of America, by D. Applet on & Co. 

Original from 





"If I were but sealed up in my bottle once 
more," said the Jinnuu, "would not even the 
Lord Mayor have respect unto the seal of 
Suleyman and forbear to disturb me? " 

" Why, of course 
he would ! " cried 
Horace, hardly 
daring to believe 
his ears, M That's 
really a brilliant 
idea of yours, my 
dear Mr. Fak- 
rash/ 1 

** And in the 
bottle 1 should 
not be c o m - 


pelled to work, 
continued the 
Jinnee, " For 
labour of all 
kinds hath ever 
been abhorrent 
unto me." 

" I can quit^ 
understand that," 
said Horace, 
sympathetically, " Just imagine your having 
to drag an excursion train to the seaside on a 
Bank Holiday, or being condemned to print 
off a cheap comic paper, or even the War 
Cry, when you might be leading a snug and 
idle existence in your bottle. If I were you, 
1 should go and get inside it at once. 
Suppose we go back to Vincent Square and 
find it?" 

" 1 shall return to the bottle, since in that 
alone there is safety," said the Jinnee. *' But 
I shall return alone." 

" Alone 1 " cried Horace. " YouVe not going 
to leave me stuck up here all by myself ? M 

" By no means/' replied the Jinnee. 
"Havel not said th:it I am about to cast 

by Google 

thee to perdition ? Too long have I delayed 
in the accomplishment of this duty/' 

Once more Horace gave himself up for 
lost ; which was doubly bitter, just when he 

had begun to con- 
sider that the 
danger was past, 
But even then, he 
was determined 
to fight to the last. 
11 One moment/' 
he said. "Of 
course, if you've 
set your heart 
on pitching me 
over, you must. 
Only — I may be 
mistaken — but 
I don't quite 
see how you are 
going to manage 
the rest of your 
programme with- 
out me, that's all/' 
**0 deficient in 
intelligence ! M 
cried the Jinnee, 
'* What assistance 
canst thou render 

"Well," said 

Horace, "of 

course, you can 

get into the bottle 

alone — that's 

simple enough. 

Hut the difficulty I see is this : 

Are you quite sure you can put 

the cap on yourself — from the 

inside^ you know ? " 

"If he can/ J he thought, "I'm 
done for ! " 

"That/' began the Jinnee, with 
his usual confidence, " will be the easiest of 
— nay," he corrected himself, "there be 
things that not even the Jinn themselves can 
accomplish, and one of them is to seal a 
vessel while remaining within it I am 
indebted to thee for reminding me thereof." 

" Not at all," said Ventimore, " I shall 
be delighted to come and seal you up 
comfortably myself." 

"A^ain thou speakest folly," exclaimed the 
Jinnee. "How canst thou seal me up after I 
have dashed thee into a thousand pieces ? ;J 

" F 11nat/' said Horace, with all the urbanity 
he could command, " is precisely the difficulty 
I was trying to convey/' 

"There will be no difficulty, for as soon 

Original from 



as I am in the bottle I shall summon certain 
inferior Efreets, and they will replace the 

" When you are once in the bottle," said 
Horace* at a venture, " you probably won't 
be in a position to summon anybody." 

" Before I get into the bottle, then ! " said 
the Jinnee, impatiently. "Thou dost but 
juggle with words ! " 

" But about those Efreets," persisted 
Horace. "You know what Efreets are! 
How can you be sure that, when they've got 
you in the bottle, they won't hand you over 
to the Lord Mayor ? I shouldn't trust them 
myself — but, of course, you know best ! " 

" Whom shall I trust, then ? " said 
Fakrash, frowning. 

" I'm sure I don't know. It's rather 
a pity you're so determined to destroy 
me, because, as it hap- ^ 

pens, I'm just the one - 3 

person living who could 
be depended on to seal 
you up and keep your 
secret. However, that's 
your affair. After all, 
why should I care what 
becomes of you ? I 
sha'n't be there ! " ^ 

" Even at this hour," *" 
said the Jinnee, unde- 
cidedly, " I might find it 
in my heart to spare thee, 
were I but sure that thou 
wouldst be faithful unto 

" I should have thought 
I was more to be trusted 
than one of your beastly 
Efreets ! " said Horace, 
with well - assumed indif- 
ference. "But never mind, I 
know that I care, after all. 
nothing particular to live 
now. You've ruined me 

first," said Horace. " This is not the place to 
discuss business." 

" Thou sayest rightly," replied the Jinnee ; 
" hold fast to my sleeve, and I will transport 
thej to thine abode." 

" Not till you promise to play fair," said 
Horace, pausing on the brink of the ledge. 
" Remember, if you let me go now you 
drop the only friend you've got in the world ! " 

" May I be thy ransom ! " replied Fakrash. 
" There shall not be harmed a hair of thy 
head ! " 

Even then Horace had his misgivings ; 
but as there was no other way of getting off 
that cornice, he decided to take the risk. 






thoroughly, and you may as well 
finish your work. I've a good mind 
to jump over and save you the 
trouble. Perhaps, when you see me 
bouncing down that dome, you'll be 
sorry ! " 

" Refrain from rashness ! " said the 
Jinnee, hastily, without suspecting 
that Ventimore had no serious inten- 
tion of carrying out his threat. " If 
thou wilt do as thou art bidden, I will 
not only pardon thee, but grant thee 
all that thou desirest." 

" Take me back to Vincent Square 






by Google 


Original from 



And, as it proved, he acted judiciously, for the 
Jinnee flew to Vincent Square with honour- 
able precision, and dropped him neatly into 
the arm-chair in which he had little hoped 
ever to find himself again. 

il I have brought thee hither," said 
Fakrash, "and yet 1 am persuaded that thou 
art even now devising treachery against me, 
and wilt betray me if thou canst" 

Horace was about to assure him once more 
that no one could be more anxious than him- 
self to see him safely back in his bottle, when 
he recollected that it was impolitic to appear 
too eager, 

11 After the way you've behaved," he said, 
" I'm not at all sure that I ought to help you* 
Still, I said I would, on certain conditions, 
and I'll keep my word." 

" Conditions ! " thundered the Jinnee, 
" Wilt thou bargain with me yet further ? " 

"My excellent friend," said Horace, quietly, 
"you know perfectly well that you can't get 
yourself safely sealed up again in 
that bottle without my assistance. 
If you don't like my terms, and 
prefer to take your chance of 
finding an Efreet who is willing 
to brave the Lord Mayor, well, 
you've only to say so/ 1 

" I have loaded thee with all 
manner of riches and favours, 
and I will bestow no more upon 
thee," said the Jinnee, sullenly. 
"Nay, in token of my displea- 
sure, I will deprive thee even of 
such gifts as thou hast retained" 
He [jointed his grey forefinger at 
Ventimore, whose turban and 
jewelled robes instantly shrivelled 
into cobwebs and tinder and 
fluttered to the carpet in filmy 
shreds, leaving him in nothing 
but his underclothing. 

"That only shows what a misty 
temper you're in," said Horace, 
blandly, "and doesn't annoy me 
in the least. If you* II excuse me, 
I'll go and put on some things I 
can feel more at home in, and 
perhaps by the time I return you'll have 
cooled down." 

He slipped on some clothes hurriedly and 
re-entered the sitting-room, '• Now, Mr. 
Fakrash," he said, "we'll have this ouL You 
talk of having loaded me with benefits. You 
seem to consider I ought to be grateful to 
you. In Heaven's name, for what? I've 
been as forbearing as possible all this time, 
because I gave you credit for meaning well. 

Now, 111 speak plainly. I told you from the 
first, and I tell you now, that I want no 
riches or honours from you. The one real 
good turn you did me was bringing me that 
client, and you spoilt that because you would 
insist on building the palace yourself, instead 
of leaving it to me 3 As for the rest— here 
am I, a ruined and discredited man, with 
a client who probably supposes I'm in league 
with the Evil One ; with the girl I love, and 
might have married, believing that 1 have 
left her to marry a Princess; and her father 
unable ever to forgive me for having seen 
him as a one-eyed mule. In short, I'm in 
such a mess all round that I don't care two 
straws whether I live or die ! " 

" What is all this to me?" said the Jinnee. 


by Google 


"Only this — that unless you can see your 
way to putting things straight for me, I'm 
hanged if I take the trouble to seal you up 
iti that buttle: I " 

u How am / to put things straight for 
thee ?" cried Fakrash, peevishly, 

" If you could make all those people 
entirely forget that affair in the Guildhall, you 
can make my friends forget the brass bottle 
and everything connected with it, can't you ?" 

Original from 



"There would be no difficulty in that," 
Fakrash admitted. • ' ' * 

11 Well, do it — and I'll swear to seal you 
up in the bottle exactly as if you had never 
been out of it, and pitch you into the deepest 
part of the Thames, where no one will ever 
disturb you." 

"First produce the bottle, then," said 
Fakrash, " for I cannot believe but that thou 
hast some lurking guile in thy heart." 

" I'll ring for my landlady and have the 
bottle brought up," said Horace. " Perhaps 
that will satisfy you ? Stay, you'd better not 
let her see you." 

" I will render myself invisible," said the 
Jinnee, suiting the action to his words. 
"But. beware lest thou play me false," his 
voice continued, " for I shall hear thee ! " 

"So you've come in, Mr. Ventimore?" 
said Mrs. Rapkin, as she entered. "And 
without the furrin' gentleman ? I was sur- 
prised, and so was Rapkin the same, to see 
you riding off this morning in that gorgious 
chariot and 'osses, and dressed up that lovely ! 
1 Depend upon it,' I says to Rapkin, I says, 
'depend upon it, Mr. Ventimore'll be sent 
for to Buckinham Pallis, jf it ain't Windsor 

" Never mind that now," said Horace, im- 
patiently ; " I want that brass bottle I bought 
the other day. Bring it up at once, please." 

"I thought you said the other day you 
never wanted to set eyes on it again, and I 
was to do as I pleased with it, sir ? " 

"Well, I've changed my mind, so let me 
have it, quick." 

" I'm sure I'm very sorry, sir, but that you 
can't, because Rapkin, not wishful to have 
the place lumbered up with rubbish, disposed 
of it on'y last night to a gentleman as keeps 
a rag and bone emporium off the Bridge 
Road, and 'alf a crown was the most he'd 
give for it, sir." 

"Give me his name," said Horace. 

" Dilger, sir. Emanuel Dilger. When 
Rapkin comes in I'm sure he'd go round 
with pleasure, and see about it, if required." 

44 I'll go round myself," said Horace. 
"It's all right, Mrs. Rapkin, quite a natural 
mistake on your part, but — but I happen to 
want the bottle again. You needn't stay." 

" O thou smooth-faced and double tongued 
one ! " said the Jinnee, after she had gone, 
as he reappeared to view. " Did I not 
foresee that thou wouldst deal crookedly? 
Restore unto me my bottle ! " 

" I'll go and get it at once," said Horace ; 
M I sha'n't be five minutes." And he pre- 
pared to go. 

by Google 

"Thou shalt not leave this house," cried 
Fakrash, " for I perceive plainly that this is 
but a device of thine to escape and betray 
me to the Press Demon ! " ■ * " ' 

" If you can't see," said Horace, angrily, 
" that I'm quite as anxious to see you safely 
back in that confounded bottle as ever you 
can be to get there, you must be pretty dense ! 
Can't you understand? The bottle's sold, 
and I can't buy it back without going out 
Don't be so infernally unreasonable ! " 

" Go, then," said the Jinnee, " and I will 
await thy returryhere. But know this : that 
if thou delayest long or returnest without my 
bottle, I shall know that thou art a traitor, 
and will visit thee and those who are dear to 
thee with the most unpleasant punishments ! " 

" I'll be back in half an hour at most," 
said Horace, feeling that this would allow 
him ample margin, and thankful that it did 
not occur to Fakrash to go in person. 

He put on his hat and hurried off in the 
gathering dusk. He had some little trouble 
in finding Mr. Dilger's establishment, which 
was a dirty, dusty little place in a back street, 
with a few deplorable old chairs, rickety 
washstands, and rusty fenders outside, and 
the interior almost completely blocked by 
piles of dmgy mattresses, empty 1 clock-cases, 
tarnished and cracked looking-glasses, broken 
lamps, damaged picture-frames, and every- 
thing else which one would imagine could 
have no possible value for any human being. 
But in all this collection of worthless curios 
the brass bottle was nowhere to be seen. 

Ventimore went in and found a youth of 
about thirteen straining his eyes in the fading 
light over one of those halfpenny humorous 
journals which, thanks to an improved system 
of education, at least So per cent of our 
juvenile population are now enabled to 

" I want to see Mr. Dilger," he began. 

" You can't," said the youth. " 'Cause he 
ain't in. He's attending of a auction." 

" When will he be in, do you know ? " 

" Might be back to his tea — but I wasn't 
to expect him not before supper." 

" You don't happen to have any old metal 
bottles — copper or — or brass would do — for 

" You don't £it at me like that ! Bottles is 
made o' glorss." 

" Well, a jar, then — a big brass pot — any- 
thing of that kind ? " 

" Don't keep 'em," said the boy, and 
buried himself once more in his copy of 
* " Spicy Sniggers." 

" I'll just look round t " said Horace, and 

Original from 



1 po*i't keep 'eh,' said tiif f hoy." 

began to poke about with a sinking heart, and 
a horrid dread that he might have come to the 
wrong shop, for the big, pot-bellied vessel 
certainly did not seem to be there. At last, 
to his unspeakable joy t he discovered it 
under a piece of tattered drugget. "Why, 
this is the sort of thing I meant/' he said, 
feeling in his pocket and discovering that he 
had exactly a sovereign, u How much do 
you want for it ? " 

" I dunno," said the boy. 

*' I don't mind three shillings," said 
Horace, who did not wish to appear too 
keen at first 

44 111 tell the guvYior when he comes 
in," was the reply, "and you can look in 

" I want it at once," insisted Horace, 
11 Come, III give you three-and-six for it." 

" It's more than it's wurf/* replied the 
candid youth*; 

" Perhaps,"; said Horace, " but I'm rather 
pressed for time. If you'll change this 
sovereign, I'H take the bottle away with 
me/ 5 

*• Vou seem uncommon anxious to get 'old 
on it, mister ! " said the boy, with sudden 

Vol **<— 3G. 

by Google 

fl Nonsense ! " said 
Horace. (i 1 live close by T 
and I thought I might 
as well take ir, that's all." 

41 Oh, if that's all, you 
can wait till the guv'nor's 

"I--I mayn't be pass 
ing this way again for 
some time," said Horace. 

il Bound to be, if you 
live close by," and the 
provoking youth returned 
to his " Sniggers." 

" Do you call this 
attending to your master's 
business?" said H orace. 
** Listen to me, you young 
rascal I'll give you five 
shillings for it- You're not 
going to be fool enough to refuse 
an offer like that ? n 

u I ain't goin' to be fool enough 

to refuse it — nor yet I ain't goin' 

to be fool enough to take it, 

'cause I'm only f ere to see as 

nobody don't come in and sneak 

fings. I ain't ^ot no authority to sell any- 

fink, and I don't know the proice o' nuffink, 

so there you \wc it" 

"Take the five shillings," said Horace, 
"and if it's too little I'll come round and 
settle with your master later/ 1 

4i I thought you said you wasn't likely to 
be porsin' again ? No, mister, you don't kid 
me that way ! " 

Horace had a mad impulse to snatch up 
the precious bottle then and there and make 
off with it, and might have yielded to the 
temptation , with disastrous consequences, had 
not an elderly man entered the shop at that 
moment. He was bent, and wore rather 
more fluff and flue upon his person than 
most well-dressed people would consider 
necessary, but he came in with a certain air 
of authority, nevertheless. 

"Mr. Dilger, sir," piped the youth, u 'ere's 
a gent took a fancy to this 'ere brass pot o' 
yours; Says he must 5 ave it. Five shillings 
he'd got to, but I told him he'd T ave to wait 
till you come in." 

11 Quite right, my lad!" said Mr, Dilger, 
cocking a watery but sharp old eye at Horace. 
"Five shillings! Ah, sir, yoti can't know 
much about these hold brass antiquities to 
make an orfer like that." 

"I know as much as most people, 1 ' said 
Horace. " But let us say six shillings," 
" Couldn't be done, sir ; couldn't, indeed* 

Original from 



Why, I give a pound for it myself at Christies, 
as sure as I J m standin' 'ere m the presence o* 
my Maker, and you a sinner I " he declared, 
impressively if rather ambiguously. 

*' Your memory misleads you," said Horace, 
"You bought it last night from a man of 

that represents. 


the name of Rapkin, who lets lodgings in 
Vincent Square, and you paid exactly half a 
crown for it," 

41 If you say so I daresay it's correct, sir," 
said Mr. Dilger, without exhibiting the least 
confusion. "And if I did buy it off Mr. 
Rapkin, he*s a respectable party, and ain't 
likely to have come by it dishonest." 

"I never said he did. What will you take 
for the thins ? ** 

lt Well, just look at the work in it. They 
don't turn out the like rf that nowadays. 
Dutch, that is ; what they used for to put their 
milk and such-like in." 

M Confound it ! " said Horace, completely 
temper. " / know what it was 
Will you tell me what you want 

losing his 

used for. 
for it ? " 

tl I couldn't 

let a curiosity like that ; 


a penny under thirty shillings," said Mr. 
Dilger, affectionately. u It would be robbin' 

11 I'll give you a sovereign for it— there/ 1 
said Horace, "You know best what profit 
That's my last word." 

" My last word to 
that, sir, is good hcven- 
in.7' said the worthy 

"Good evening, 
then," said Horace, and 
walked out of the shop ; 
rather to bring Mr. 
Dilger to terms than 
because he really meant 
to abandon the bottle, 
for he d^red not go back 
without it, and he had 
nothing about him just 
then on which he could 
raise the extra ten shil- 
ling^ supposing the 
dealer refused to trust 
him for the balance — 
and the time was grow- 
ing dangerously short, 

Fortunately the well- 
worn ruse succeeded, 
for Mr. Dilger ran out 
after him and laid an 
unwashed claw upon his coat- 
sleeve. u Don't go, mister/' he 
said ; U I like to do business if 
I can; though, 'pon my word 
and honour, a sovereign for a 
work o' art like that! Well, 
jum lor luck and bein' rny birth- 
day, well call it a deal/ 1 

Horace handed over the coin, 
which left him with a few pence. "There 
ought to be a lid or stopper of some sort/' 
he said, suddenly. " What have you done 
with that?" 

* No, sir, there youVe mistook, you are, 
indeed. I do assure you you never see a 
pot of this partickler pattern with a lid to it. 
Never ! " 

"Oh, don't you, though?" said Horace, 
"I know tetter. Never mind," he said, as 
he recollected that the seal was in Fakraslvs 
possession, "Til take it as it is. Don't 
trouble to wrap it up. I'm in rather a 
harry. " 

It was almost dark when he got back to 
his rooms, where he found the Jinnee shaking 
with mingled ra^e and apprehension. 

" No welcome to thee ! " he cried, 
"Dilatory dog that thou art! Hadst thou 

Original from 



delayed another minute, I would have called 
down some calamity upon thee/' 

" Well, you need not trouble yourself to do 
that now/' returned Ventimore. " Here's your 
bottle, and you can creep into it as soon as 
you please." 

u But the seal!" shrieked the Jinnee, 
" What hast thou done with the seal which 
was upon the bottle ? " 

" Why, you've got it yourself, of course," 
said Horace, " in one of your pockets." 

11 O thou of base antecedents ! " howled 
Fakrash, shaking out his Bowing draperies, 
" How should / have the seal ? This is but 
a fresh device of thine to undo me ! " 

" Don't talk rubbish ! " retorted Horace. 
"You made the Professor give it up to you 
yesterday. You must have lost it some- 
where or other Never mind ! Ill get a 
large cork or hung, which will do just as 
welL And I've lots of sealing-wax," 

once to his abode and compel him to 
restore it." 

" I wouldn't," said Horace, feeling ex- 
tremely uneasy, for it was evidently a much 
simpler thing to let a Jinnee out of a bottle 
than to get him in again. " He's quite in- 
capable of taking it. And if you go out 
now you'll only make a fuss and attract the 
attention of the Press, which I thought you 
rather wanted to avoid." 

" I shall attire myself in the garments of 
a mortal — even those I assumed on a former 
occasion," said Fakrash, and as he spoke 
his outer robes modernized into a frock-coat 
" Thus shall I escape attention," 

** Wait one moment," said Horace. " What 
is that bulge in your breast-pocket ?" 

"Of a truth, 11 said the Jinnee, looking 
relieved but not a little foolish as he ex- 
tracted the object, u it is indeed the seal 

"You're in such a hurry to think the 


**I will have no seal but the seal of 
Suleyman ! " declared the Jinnee. il For with 
no other will there be security. Verily I 
believe that that accursed sage thy friend hath 
contrived by some cunning to get the seal 
once more into his hands* I will go at 

by Google 

worst of everybody, you see ! " said Horace 
" Now, do try to carry away with you into 
your seclusion a better opinion of human 

" Perdition to all the people of this age ! " 
cried Fakrash, re-assuming his green robe 

Original from 



and turban, "for I now put no faith in 
human beings and would afflict them all, 
were not the Lord Mayor (on whom be 
peace !) mightier than I. Therefore, while it 
is yet time, take thou the stopper, and swear 
that, after I am in this bottle, thou wilt seal 
it as before and cast it into deep waters, 
where no eye will look upon it more ! * 

"With all the pleasure in the world ! " said 
Horace ; " only you must keep your part of 
the bargain first. You will kindly obliterate 
all recollection of yourself and the brass 
bottle from the minds of every human being 
who has had anything to do with you or it." 

"Not so," objected the Jinnee, "for thus 
wouldst thou forget thy compact." 

" Oh, very well, leave me out, then," said 
Horace. "Not that anything could make 
me forget youl n 

Fakrash swept his right hand round in a 
half circle. " It is accomplished," he said. 
" All recollection of myself and yonder 
bottle is now erased from the memories of 
everyone but thyself." 

" But how about my client ? " said Horace. 
" I can't afford to lose kim y you know." 

" He shall return unto thee," said the 
Jinnee, trembling with impatience. "Now 
perform thy share." 

Horace had triumphed. It had been a 
long and desperate duel with this singular 
being, who was at once so crafty and so 
childlike, so credulous and so suspicious, 
so benevolent and so malign. Again and 
again he had despaired of victory, but he 
had won at last. In another minute or so 
this formidable Jinnee would be safely 
bottled once more, and powerless to inter- 
meddle and plague him for the future. 

And yet, in the very moment of victory, 
quixotic as such scruples may seem to some, 
Ventimore's conscience smote him. He 
could not help a certain pity for the old 
creature, who was shaking there convulsively, 
prepared to re-enter his bottle-prison rather 
than incur a wholly imaginary doom. Fak- 
rash had aged visibly within the last hour; 
now he looked even older than his three 
thousand and odd years. True, he had led 
Horace a fearful life of late, but at first, at 
least, his intentions had been good. His 
gratitude, if mistaken in its form, was the 
sign of a generous disposition. Not every 
Jinnee, surely, would have endeavoured to 
press untold millions and honours and 
dignities of all kinds upon him, in return for 
a service which most mortals would have 
considered amply repaid by a brace of birds 
and an invitation to an evening party. 

by Google 

And how was Horace treating him t He was 
taking what, in his heart, he felt to be a rather 
mean advantage of the Jinnee's ignorance of 
modern life to cajole him into returning to 
his captivity. Why not suffer him to live 
out the brief remainder of his years (for he 
could hardly last more than another century 
or two at most) in freedom ? Fakrash had 
learnt his lesson : he was not likely to 
interfere again in human affairs; he might 
find his way back to the Palace of the 
Mountain of the Clouds and end his days 
there, in peaceful enjoyment of the society 
of such of the Jinn as might still survive 

So, obeying — against his own interests — 
some kindlier impulse, Horace made an effort 
to deter the Jinnee, who was already hovering 
in air above the neck of the bottle in a swirl 
of revolving draperies, like some blundering 
old bee vainly endeavouring to hit the open- 
ing into his hive. 

"Mr. Fakrash," he cried, "before you go 
any farther, listen to me. There's no real 
necessity after all for you to go back to your 
bottle. If you'll only wait a little " 

But the Jinnee, who had now swelled to 
gigantic proportions, and whose form and 
features were only dimly recognisable through 
the wreaths of black vapour in which he was 
involved, answered him from his pillar of 
smoke in a terrible voice. " Wouldst thou 
still persuade me to linger?" he cried. 
" Hold thy peace and be ready to fulfil thine 

" But, look here," persisted Horace. " I 
should feel such a brute if I sealed you up 

without telling you " The whirling and 

roaring column, in shape like an inverted cone, 
was being fast sucked down into the vessel, 
till only a serai-materialized but highly in- 
furiated head was left above the neck of the 

" Must I tany," it cried, " till the Lord 
Mayor arrive with his Memlooks, and the 
hour of safety is expired ? By my head, if 
thou delayest another instant, I will put no 
more faith in thee ! And I will come forth 
once more, and afflict thee and thy friends — 
aye, and all the dwellers in this accursed 
city — with the most painful and unheard-of 

An^, with these words, the head sank into 
the bottle with a loud clap resembling 

Horace hesitated no longer. The Jinnee 
himself had absolved him from all further 
scruples; to imperil Sylvia and her parents — 
not to mention all London— out of con- 
Original from 



sideration for one obstinate and obnoxious 
old demon, would dearly be carrying senti- 
ment much too far. 

Accordingly, he made a rush for the jar 
and slipped the metal cover over the mouth 
of the neck t which 
was so hot that it 
blistered his fingers, 
and, seizing the 
poker, he hammered 
down the secret 
catch until the lid 
fitted as closely as 
Suleyman himself 
could have required. 

ITien he stuffed 
the bottle into a 
kit-bag, adding a few 
coals to give it extra 
weight, and toiled off 
with it to the nearest 
steamboat pier, 
where he spent his 
remaining pence in 
purchasing a ticket 
to the Temple, 

Next day the fol- 
lowing paragraph 


appeared in one of the evening papers, which 
probably had more space than usual at its 
disposal : — 


tl A gentleman on board one of the 

Digitized by G 

Thames steamboats (so we are informed by 
an eye- witness) met with a somewhat 
ludicrous mishap yesterday evening. It 
appears that he had with hint a small port- 
manteau, or large hand-bag, which he was 

supporting on the rail 
of the stern bulwark- 
Just as the vessel was 
opposite the Savoy 
Hotel he incautiously 
raised his hand to 
the brim of his hat, 
thereby releasing hold 
of the bag, which 
overbalanced itself 
and fell into the 
deepest part of the 
river, where it in- 
stantly sank. The 
owner (whose care- 
lessness occasioned 
consider? 1 >le amuse- 
ment to passengers 
in his immediate 
vicinity) appeared no 
little disconcerted by 
the oversight, and was 
not unnaturally reti- 
cent as to the amount 
of his loss, though 
he was understood to 
state that the bag 
nothing o( any great 
value However this may be, he 
has probably learnt a lesson 
which will render him more care- 
ful in future." 


On a certain evening in May Horace Venti- 
more dined in a private room at the Savoy, 
as one of the guests of Mr, Samuel Wacker- 
bath. In fact, he might almost he said to 
be the guest of the evening, as the dinner was 
given by way of celebrating the completion of 
the host's new country house at Lingfield, of 
which Horace was the architect, and also to 
congratulate him on his approaching marriage 
(which was fixed to take place early in the 
following month) with Miss Sylvia Futvoye. 

11 Quite a sm:i ! xl friendly party !" said 
Mr. VVackerbath, looking round on his 
numerous sons and daughters, as he greeted 
Horace in the reception-room. " Only our- 
selves, you see, Miss Futvoye, a young lady 
with whom you are fairly well acquainted, 
and her people, and an old schoolfellow of 
mine and his wife, who are not yet arrived. 
He's a man of considerable eminence," he 
Original from 






added with a roll of reflected importance in 
his voice; "quite worth your cultivating. Sir 
I^iwrencc Pountney, his name is. I don't know 
if you remember him, but he discharged the 
onerous duties of Lord Mayor of London 
the year before last, and acquitted himself 
very creditably— in fact, he got a baronetcy 
for it" 

As the year before last was the year in 
which Horace had paid his involuntary visit 
to the Guildhall, he was able to reply with 
truth that he did remember Sir I-awrence. 

He was not altogether comfortable when 
the ex -Lord Mayor was announced, for it 
would have been more than awkward if Sir 
Lawrence had chanced to remember him, 
Fortunately, he gave no sign that he did so, 
though his manner was graciousness itself. 
" Delighted, my dear Mr, Ventimore," he 
said, pressing Horace's hand almost as 
warmly as he had done that October day 
on the dais \ " most delighted to make your 
acquaintance ! I am always glad to meet a 
rising young man, and I hear that the house 
you have designed for my old friend here is 
a perfect palace— a marvel, sir : " 

" I knew he was my man,'* declared Mr. 
Wackerbath, as Horace modestly disclaimed 




Sir Lawrence's compliment 
" You remember, Pountney, 
my dear fellow, that day when 
we were crossing Westmin- 
ster Bridge together, and I 
was telling you I thought of 
building? *(Jo to one of 
the leading men— an R.A. 
and all that sort of thing,' 
you said, * then you'll be 
sure of getting your money's 
worth.' But I said, ' No. 
I like to choose for myself; 
to — ah — exercise my own 
judgment in these matters. 
And there's a young fellow I 
have in my eye who'll beat 
'em all, if he's given the 
chance* I'm off to see him 
now,' * And off 1 went to 
Great Cloister Street (for he 
hadn't those palatial offices 
of his in Victoria Street at 
that time) without losing 
another instant, and dropped in on him with 
my little commission. Didn't I, Ventimore?" 
" You did indeed," said Horace, wondering 
how far these reminiscences would go, 

"And," continued Mr. Wackerbath, patting 
Horace on the shoulder, "from that day to 
this I've never had a moment's reason to 
regret it. We've worked in perfect sympathy. 
His ideas coincided with mine, I think he 
found that I met him, so to speak, on all 

Ventimore assented, though it struck him 
that a happier expression might, and would, 
have been employed if his client had 
remembered one particular interview in which 
he had not figured to advantage. 

They went in to dinner, in a room sump- 
tuously decorated with panels of grey-green 
brocade and softly shaded lamps, and screens 
of gilded leather; through the centre of the 
table rose a tall palm, its boughs hung with 
small electric globes like magic fruits. 

"This palm," said the Professor, who was 
in high good humour, M really gives quite an 
Oriental look to the table. Personally, I 
think we might reproduce the Arabian style 
of decoration and arrangement generally in 
our homes with great advantage, I often 
wonder it never occurred to my future son- 
in-law there to turn his talents in that direc- 
tion and design an Oriental interior lor 
himself, Nothing more comfortable and 
luxurious — for a bachelor's purposes." 

11 I'm sure/* said his wife, " Horace 
managed to make himself quite comfort- 
Original from 



able enough as it was. He has the most 
delightful rooms in Vincent Square." Venti- 
more heard her remark to Sir Lawrence: "I 
shall never forget the first time we dined 
there, just after my daughter and he were 
engaged. I was quite astonished : every- 
thing was so perfect — quite simple, you 
know, but so ingeniously arranged, and his 
landlady such an excellent cook, too ! Still, 
of course, in many ways, it will be nicer for 
him to have a home of his own." 

" With such a beautiful and charming com- 
panion to share it with," said Sir Lawrence, 
in his most florid manner, "the — ah — 
poorest home would prove a Paradise', 
indeed ! And I suppose now, my dear 
young lady," he added, raising his voice to 
address Sylvia, " you are busy making your 
future abode as exquisite as taste and research 
can render it, ransacking all the furniture 
shops in London for treasures, and going 
about to auctions— or do you— ah— delegate 
that department to Mr. Ventimore?" 

" I do go about to old furniture shops, Sir 
Lawrence," she said, " but not auctions. I'm 
afraid I should only get just the thing I 
didn't want if I tried to bid. . . . And," she 
added, in a lower voice, turning to Horace, 
"I don't believe you would be a bit more 
successful, Horace ! " 

" What makes you say that, Sylvia ? " he 
asked, with a start. 

"Why, do you mean to say you've for- 
gotten how you went to that auction for 
papa, and came away without having managed 
to get a single thing?" she said. "What a 
short memory you must have ! " 

There was only tender mockery in her 
eyes ; absolutely no recollection of the 
sinister purchase he had made at that sale, 
or how nearly it had separated them for ever. 
So he hastened to admit that perhaps he had 
not been particularly successful at the auction 
in question. 

Sir Lawrence next addressed him across 
the table. " I was just telling Mrs. Futvoye," 
he said, "how much I regretted that I had 
not the privilege of your acquaintance during 
my year of office. A Lord Mayor, as you 
doubtless know, has exceptional facilities for 
exercising hospitality, and it would have 
afforded me real pleasure if your first visit to 
the Guildhall could have been paid under 
my —hum — ha — auspices." 

"You are very kind," said Horace, very 
much on his guard ; " I could not wish to pay 
it under better." 

" I flatter myself," said the ex-Lord Mayor, 
"that, while in office, I did my humble best 

by L^OOgle 

to maintain the traditions of the City, and I 
was fortunate enough to have the honour of 
receiving more than the average number of 
celebrities as guests. But I had one great 
disappointment, I must tell you. It had 
always been a dream of mine that it might 
fall to my lot to present some distinguished 
fellow-countryman with the freedom of the 
City. By some curious chance, when the 
opportunity seemed about to occur, the 
thing was put off and I missed it — missed 
it by the merest hairbreadth ! " 

" Ah, well, Sir Lawrence," said Ventimore, 
" one can't have everything! " 

"For my part," put in Lady Pountney, 
who had only caught a word or two of her 
husband's remarks, "what / miss most is 
having the sentinels present arms whenever 
I went out for a drive. They did it so 
nicely and respectfully. I confess I enjoyed 
that. My husband never cared much for it. 
Indeed, he wouldn't even use the State 
coach unless he was absolutely obliged. He 
was as obstinate as a mule about it ! " 

" I see, Lady Pountney," the Professor 
put in, " that you share the common prejudice 
against mules. It's quite a mistaken one. 
The mule has never been properly appreciated 
in this country. He is really the gentlest 
and most docile of creatures." 

" I can't say I like them myself," said 
Lady Pountney ; " such a mongrel sort of 
animal — neither one thing nor the other ! " 

44 And they're hideous too, Anthony," 
added his wife. " And not at all clever ! " 

" There you're mistaken," my dear, said 
the Professor ; " they are capable of almost 
human intelligence. I have had consider- 
able personal experience of what a mule can 
do," he informed Lady Pountney, who 
seemed still incredulous. 4< More than most 
people indeed, and I can assure you, my 
dear Lady Pountney, that they readily adapt 
themselves to almost any environment, and 
will endure the greatest hardships without 
exhibiting any signs of distress. I see by 
your expression, Ventimore, that you don't 
agree with me, eh ? " 

Horace had to set his teeth hard for a 
moment, lest he should disgrace himself by a 
peal of untimely mirth — but by a strong 
effort of will he managed to command his 

44 Well, sir," he said, " I've only chanced to 
come into close contact with one mule in my 
life, and, frankly, I've no desire to repeat the 

" You happened to come upon an un- 
favourable specimen, that's all," said the 
Original from 




■ "t ^ILAj*.! 


Professor. "There are exceptions to every 

"This animal," Horace sard, "was cer- 
tainly exceptional enough in every way." 

" Do tell lis all about it," pleaded one of 
the Miss Waekerhaths, and all the ladies 
joined in the entreaty until Horace found 
himself under the necessity of improvising a 
story, which, it must be confessed, Fell exceed- 
ingly flat, 

This final ordeal past, he grew silent and 
thoughtful, as he sat there by Sylvia's side, 
looking out through the glazed gallery outside 
upon the spring foliage along the Embank- 
ment, the opaline river, and the shot towers 
and buildings on the opposite bank glowing 
warm brown against an evening sky of 
silvery blue. 

Not for the first time did it seem strange, 
incredible almost, to him that all these 
people should be so utterly without any 
recollection of events which surety might 
have been expected to leave some trace upon 

the least retentive memory — and yet it only 
proved once more how thoroughly and 
honourably the old Jinnee, now slumbering 
placidly in his bottle deep down in un- 
fathomable mud, opposite the very spot 
where they were dining, had fulfilled his last 

Fakrash, the brass bottle, nnd all his 
fantastic and embarrassing performances were 
indeed as totally forgotten as though they 
had never been. 

And it is but too probable that even this 
modest and veracious account of them will 
prove to have been included in the general 
act of oblivion — though the author will trust 
as long as possible that Fakrash-el-Aamash 
may have neglected to 
particular case, and that 
Brass Bottle may thus 

linger awhile in the 
least of its readers. 

provide for this 

the history of the 

be permitted to 

memories of some at 


by Google 

Original from 

The Prince of IVakss Jockeys. 

By Arthur R Mevrick, 

SE sly. Ik LV 

RICH and handsome jacket 
is that in which His Royal 
Highness the Prince of 
Wales's racehorses are ridden, 
It consists of a purple satin 
body faced with gold braid \ 
the sleeves are scarlet, and the cap black 
velvet with gold fringe, On a racecourse 
they first made their appearance on 
April 15th, 1880, in a military steeplechase 
at Aldershot, and the honour of wearing 
them fell to Captain Wentworth Hope 
Johnstone, then a 
subaltern in the 7th 
Hussars; what is 
more, the horse, 
called Leonidas II., 
who carried the Cap- 
tain to the delight of 
the Prince and Prin- 
cess of Wales, the 
Duke and Duchess 
of Conna tight, and a 
fashionable company 
present, won in a 
canter. Here is Cap- 
tain Hope Johnstone's 
recollection of the 
race. He writes to 
me from his country 
residence, Sk ey n es, 
Edenbridge : u What 
a wet afternoon it 
was. I had got 
drenched to the skin 
riding in the race 
before, and as a pre- 
ventive to the reins 
slipping I rubbed my 
hands with sand 
among which was 
some mud, and I 
brought more mud 
home with me, as Leo ni da 5 II. was led 
back to the paddock, a gallant winner." 
Captain Hope Johnstone was very proud of 
his victory, and so was the late John Jones, 
who trained Leonidas IL Between the flags in 
the "eighties'* and early *' nineties ,J there 
were few better amateur jockeys than the 
Captain. He had fine hands, good length, 





and could always take his own part when 
a finish became close and exciting, Captain 
Johnstone was born in 1848 at Moffat, 
Dumfriesshire, and it was his increased 
weight two or three years ago which pre- 
vented his continuing the pursuit he loved so 
well, The Prince of Wales, to his successful 
jockeys, usually gives scarf-pins as souvenirs, 
and Captain Hope Johnstone still holds the 
pretty diamond and emerald horseshoe with 
which he was presented after the victory of 
Ijeonidas IL, which was a big, upstanding 

brown gelding by 
Lord Clifden or Ad- 
venturer The after- 
noon that Captain 
Johnstone won the 
Military Hunt Cup 
on Leonidas IL was 
one of his red letter 
days, for he rode three 
winners of the seven 
events on the card, 
and should have won 
a fourth when wearing 
the Duke of Con- 
naught's green and 
black stripes in the 
Welter Plate on Black 
Knight, as he was 
going well when he 
came to grief. 

Another distin- 
guished military man 
to wear the colours 
besides Captain Hope 
Johnstone was the 
late Major E, R. 
Owen. " Roddy," as 
Major Owen was 
called by bis friends, 
won two steeplechases 
in the colours on Hohenlinden in 1888; 
first the Naval and Military Steeplechase, at 
Kcmpton Park, and then in the Open Military 
Stakes, at the Household Brigade Meeting, 
loiter, too, 1891, when the Major formed 
one of the Sandringham House party usually 
assembling there at Easter, with a view to thej 
West Norfolk Hunt Meeting, held hard by at 




East Winch } he again put 
on the Royal colours and 
rode The Monk in the 
County Stakes j but only 
got a moderate third. 
Besides being an excellent 
soldier, Major Owen had 
few equals on a steeple- 
chase course, the chief of 
his triumphs being that he 
won the Liverpool Grand 
National of 1892 on 
Father O'Flynru A bril- 
liant career was cut short 
at Ambigol Wells, Kyypt, 
on July nth, 1896, when 
the Major succumbed to 
an attack of cholera. For 
the reproduction of the 
picture and autograph I 
am indebted to Major 
Owen's mother. It is the 
only portrait in racing 
colours she has of her 
lamented son, and it is 
daily face to face with her 
on the writing -table at 
15, Wilton Crescent, 

major f:. n r n-WEtt. 
Frr>m fl Phnfa. ftp ft •time tt Shfith*rd 

(By permission of tin 1 Proprietor* of Jl Patly*g 

The late John Jones is the father of the 
Egerlon House apprentice who has done 
so well this season in the Royal colours on 
Diamond Jubilee. He was the first pro- 
fessional to ride for the 



honour conferred upon 
him was so highly thought 
of, that when not on a 
racecourse the purple, 
gold, and scarlet jacket 
was always on view under 
a glass case in Jones's 
sitting-room, Here, too, 
hung a picture of His 
Royal Highness, pre- 
sented by the Prince of 
Wales, who also made 
Jones other gifts, which 
included a whip and a 
scarf-pin, Jones was a 
very bold horseman, and 
if he failed to win in the 
Royal colours on The 
Scot in the Liverpool 
Grand National, he 
won this event for John 
Nightingall later on 
with Shifnal. Jones 
was born November 


Fvim a i'koto. h# J, U^Mimm ** Son*, 

Fii>m a rSok 

ay Google 

19th, 1850* It was due 
to the late Mr. Fothergill 
Rowlands and Lord 
Marcus Beresford, the 
present Master of the 
Horse to the Prince of 
Wales's stable, that 
Jones came into 
steeplechase prominence, 
and he rode many good 
winners besides Shifnal. 
Jones was a very good- 
natured man, and only 
forty - two years of age 
when he died {November 
3rd, 1892). He left a 
wife, who still resides at 

It was in the Grand 
National at Liverpool, in 
1890, that Mr. E. P, 
Wilson wore the Royal 
colours. The Prince of 
Wales about that time 
had a burning desire to 
win the A in tree prize ; 
but Hettie, like The Scot 
and Magic, proved un- 
successful ; indeed, it was Mr. E. P, Wilson's 
mount, Voluptuary, who won the year Jones 
was beaten on The Scot Mr. Wilson also 
carried off another Liverpool on the uncertain 
Roquefort, who always ran 
better at Aintree than 
elsewhere* He liked a 
left - handed track, but 
even then Mr. Wilson 
describes him as " a 
handful" Mr, Wilson 
was born October loth, 
1846, at Ilrnington, a 
very pretty spot near 
Shipton - on - Stour, and 
has lived all his life there 
training and riding race- 
horses. He won his first 
steeplechase in Warwick- 
shire at Stratford - on - 
Avon, on a horse called 
Starlight, in i860. His 
career in the saddle, too, 
has been a hard one, for 
it was in December of 
1898 that he had his 
last mount at Dunstall 
Park. Apart from Mr. 
Wilson's two Liver- 
pool victories in suq- 

Original from 




fVom a Fhuto. bit ] Mft. K. I 1 . wtLSOH. [Hadtn,, Birmmoham, 

cession, a striking feature in his history is 
that he on five occasions has won the 
movable National Hunt Steeplechase. At 
his best Mr. Wilson was 
a bold and fearless ama- 
teur jockey. He had a 
firm seat and a fine know- 
ledge of pace, and there 
is scarcely an important 
steeplechase in the Calen- 
dar he has not won, 
When I once asked him 
which he thought was the 
best chaser lie ever rode, 
Mr* Wilson ignored 
Voluptuary, Congress, 
Regal, Goldfinder, and 
Roquefort, and, to iny 
surprise, he was content 
to select a horse called 
Nebs worth. He said at 
the end of the sixties he 
won ten consecutive races 
on him. The portrait I 
give of Mr. Wilson is in 
his own colours, amber 
and black seams and 

When Anthony, last 
March, succeeded at 
Aintree, he was rewarded by the Prince to 
the extent of j£$qo, and was " moighty 
plasecl^ as the Irish would term it. So were 

Digitized by G< 


From n Ph*to, by jVenna* Ma? dr Cu„ Vheltenkam. 

the whole of the party. The scene for excite- 
ment was on]y second to the Derby when 
Persimmon won* The yells were terrific as 
Ambush II. had the verdict at his mercy, 
and the cheering subsequently loud and 
continuous, The congratulations bestowed 
upon Anthony were more than numerous, 
and they of course included those of the 
Prince of Wales, who was present to see 
the Irish-trained horse win. The ambition 
so long expressed by the Prince to succeed 
at Aintree was, therefore, accomplished 
under most brilliant circumstances, and it 
placed a record on the book, as His Royal 
Highness now is the only owner of a Derby 
winner who has won a Grand National j 
furthermore, with Diamond Jubilee's success 
later on at Epsom he accomplished the 
double in the same season. Anthony was 
born in the Midlands, but as he has lived 
so long in Ireland the sportsmen of the 
Sister Isle now claim him as thetr own. 
Still, he is now as well known on this side 
of the Channel as in Ireland. However, 
he holds the reputation of being the best 
Irish steeplechase jockey, and I believe a 
letter addressed "Anthony* Ireland," would 
find him, He lives, however, at Eyrefield 
Cottage, Curragh. 

(.'lose by Anthony's 
home resides Mr. T. 
Lushington, who also 
played a very conspicu- 
ous part in the Grand 
National won hy Ambush 
II. It was Mr. Lushing- 
ton who purchased the 
horse for the Prince for 
a sum of ^500, and a 
cheap purchase it was. I 
have never seen Mr. 
Lushington either be- 
tween the flags or over 
hurdles, but on the flat 
he is quite an adept, 
and rides with all the 
style of a first-class pro- 
fessional. In short welter 
races he is always quick 
away when the flag falls ; 
in long-distance contests 
he always displays ex- 
cellent judgment; he 
knows when to come, and 
his finishes are perfection. 
A great public favourite is Mr Lushington, 
who has frequently had the Royal colours on. 
He had a rare reception the afternoon at 




Goodwood when he rode for the Prince and 
won the Corinthian Welter on Safety Pin. 
Mr. Lushing ton was bom at Chilham Castle, 


*TK. T, l.L'MMMimff. 

fVotn a Pht4a. Iff tiuiky d: CV + fttwmarket- 

near Canterbury, Kent, September 7th, 1860, 
and he possesses several souvenirs for ser- 
vices to the Prince. There is the enamelled 
pin of Persimmon, and another of " the 
feathers" in diamonds; but a more recent 
noteworthy treasure at Eyre field Lodge is an 
old Irish silver cup, engraved on which is the 
Royal Arms, and this was presented by His 
Royal Highness in commemoration of Am- 
bush II. 's victory at Liverpool last March* 

It was not a very creditable performance of 
Mr, Arthur Coventry when wearing the Royal 
colours, but he was then on that rather gay 
deceiver, The Scot, when he finished a 
bad third to l^ady of the lake and Per 
Damp for the Grand Steeplechase at Baden 
Baden. This was in 1883, and I believe 
the only occasion the Prince of Wales's 
colours have been sported abroad* But 
if poor honours accrued in The Scot's 
journey over the sea, which, I believe, 
was the only time Mr. Coventry wore the 
Royal livery, some few seasons ago on 
the flat, over hurdles, or country he was one 
of our most successful amateur riders. He 

Digitized b/ GOOgle 

was taught in the right school, and many of 
his early successes were scored in the scarlet 
and white hoops of Tom Cannon. In the 
Hi bury Club races for gentlemen riders Mr. 
Coventry mostly held his own. Again, too, 
Sandown Park and Lewes were some of his 
happiest hunting grounds. Few men who 
visit a course have a better knowledge of 
racing than Mr Coventry, and since leaving 
off race-riding he has become our official 
starter. In this particular calling he is as 
clever as when wearing racing colours. A 
starter's berth is the most difficult of all the 
duties of racing officials, but Mr. Coventry, 


From a Photo, if a AJierfom* XnemarktL 

who is a brother of Captain H. Coventry, 
the rider of Alcibiades in the National of 
1 86 5, gets well through his work. 

It is because the Prince of Wales started 
steeplechasing before racing under the Jockey 
Club Rules that I have given the former 
precedence, but ILR, H/s greatest achieve- 
ments have been gained on the flat. John 
Porter, at the request of the Prince, selected 



2 93 

a few brood mares to form a stud 

at Sandringham, and it was, indued, 

a happy hit when the Kingsclere 

trainer bought Perdila IL, who 

produced, among others, Florizel 

IL, Persimmon, and Diamond 

Jubilee. The Royal colours were 

registered as far back as 1875, but 

it was not until June 4th, 18S6, 

that they were sported on the flat. 

The late Fred Archer first put them 

on under the Jockey Club Rules at 

San down Park, and rode a filly 

called Counterpane in a maiden 

plate, Counterpane jumped off in 

front, made all the running, and won 

by three lengths, To set forth the 

whole of Archer's feats or praise his 

many brilliant efforts would here 

occupy too much space, hut a 

more successful or clever jockey 

was never seen. The art of race-riding was 

born in him. "Fred" was as fond of going 

straight to hounds as of making the best of 

his way home in a race* He liked jumping, 

and it may not be generally known that in Ins 

early career he did win a little steeplechase. 

Here I have his word for it ; — 


*kW^ tf^/Sii 


war J&i 





Subsequent to 
Coun terpantj A rcher 
often rode and won 
for the Prince, who 
made him many 
presents, a scarf-pin 
included, His mar- 
vellous career em- 
braces all our classic 
races and most of our 
chief handicaps and 
two -year -old races. 
He was born at 
Cheltenham, January 
1 nh, 1857 ; served 
his a [ >pr en t i ecshi p 
with the late Mat- 
thew Dawson, and 
won his first race on 
the flat at Chester- 
field in 1870, Archer 
was 5ft. gin. high, and many of his successes 
were due to a good head and his length. 

John Watts has not ridden much of late, 

but he has achieved great victories for H. R. H. 

He won him his first classic race, the One 

Thousand Guineas, on Thais, and the Derby 

and St. Leger on Persimmon. But what is 

called Persimmon's Derby was, perhaps, the 

greatest race Watts ever rode. How stride 


a Fkato. by Cfuuutiior, Until*. 

J^ w&fo 

fVirtu ci Photo. ty| 


[Haileit, A'evmnrkeL 

by stride he overhauled St. Frusquin from 
the distance is still green in memory, and 
Epsom ne£biri^pfo|r^r®msince has witnessed 




such a wild and enthusiastic scene. Watts 
was born at Stock bridge, May oth, 1861, 
and he served his apprenticeship under Tom 
Cannon. Danebury has indeed in its time 
produced some rare rid- 
ing talent, and most of 
the jockeys hailing from 
the Hampshire stable 
keep fresh in memory 
the fine style so often 
displayed in the saddle 
by Tom Cannon him- 
self. Apart from the 
successes of Persimmon, 
Watts has won more 
races than any other 
jockey in the Royal 
colours in which his 
portrait appears, A 
careful man Watts has 
been, and he has a 
beautiful home in close 
proximity to the old 
( ambridgeshire stand 
at Newmarket 

Mention of Stock - 
bridge and its riders 
leads up to Morny 
Cannon, who became 
acquainted with the 
Royal colours at Epsom 
in 1895, Here he rode a magnificent race 
in l he Cater ham Plate on Courtier, who got 
up on the post and won by a short head. A 
fine horseman is Murningtoii Cannon, and he 
takes his Christian name from a horse of 
Mr, E. Bray ley \ upon whom his father won 
the Metropolitan at Epsom, On May 21st, 
1875, "Morny" was born, and the Race 
Guide sparkles with his marked success 
and so far brilliant career. He has now 
won all the classic races except the One 
Thousand Guineas, and his seat on a 
horse is much prettier to look upon than the 
now so-much -fancied American style, which 
some of our riders have tried to adopt, In 
both public and private life Cannon is a 
most unassuming man. He is very careful 
in his living and general habits; in fact, 
although carefully studying his health, like 
Fred Archer and other jockeys, it is not likely 
10 become impaired by severe wasting, 
Kingsclere has first claim on his services, 
and he now rides always for the Prince of 
Wales when the weight and opportunity 
permit. Until lately Cannon resided at 
Ridgeway Bitterne, Southampton, but he has 
removed recently to Bletchley 

AffkctL^ ^y^~ ** 

From a Photo, fcf If aile ft, A'ewwmrfot 

O, Madden is the mid-weight jockey 
attached to Richard Marsh's powerful stable, 
He was, I think, born in Germany, and he 
comes of a race-riding family. His father, 
it will be remembered, 
came over here with 
that grand Hungarian 
mare, Kinesein, who 
carried off the Good- 
wood Cup of 1878, 
Curiously enough, Otto 
Madden, like Watts, 
M. Cannon, and H. 
Jones, the four jockeys 
attached to the Eger- 
ton House stable, have 
each ridden Derby 
winners. Besides Per- 
simmon, Watts steered 
Merry Hampton, Sain- 
foin, and Ladas. M. 
Cannon succeeded on 
Flying Fox, H. Jones 
on Diamond Jubilee, 
and Madden on Jeddah. 
The latter was the 
greatest surprise of 
modern times. The 
stable had a better 
favourite in Dieudonne', 
who failed to stay, and 
Madden brought off a 
100 to ] chance. Besides riding for the Prince 
and other Egertoii House patrons, Madden 
gets plenty of mounts and wins plenty of 


intuitu* y eumartef. 

by LiOOgLC 

Frvm a Photo, byf oj 10 maduEK, 

Original from 


2 95 

races. He made his first appearance in the 
saddle in 1890, and his best season was in 
1898, when he headed the list of winning 
jockeys with a jGi total, Last year he was 
second to S. Loates, who has never ridden 
for the Prince of Wales. 

Herbert Ebsworth Jones was born at 
Epsom on the 30th of November, 18 So, and, 

From v Photo to! 

11. E. JONES* 

I Hatiw. NamarktL 

curiously enough, his father also was born in 
November and died in that month. This time 
last year Jones never could have anticipated 
being one of the heroes of the hour at 
Epsom on a Derby Day, but he rode a well- 
timed race for the Prince on Diamond 
Jubilee, and although since beaten at New- 
market in the Princess of Wales's Stakes, the 
colt may yet win the St. Leger. The New- 
market defeat was rather disappointing to 
Jones, but it was excusable. Diamond 
Jubilee was giving Merry Gal, the winner, 
2olb* As he did to bis father, the Prince of 
Wales has ^iven young Jones a beautifully- 
mounted whip* This was presented for his 
successes in the Two Thousand and New- 
market Stakes, and no doubt since the Derby 
triumph the accustomed pin has found its 
way to the jockey's scarf* Last year 
Diamond Jubilee would do nothing for 
Cannon ; hence Jones having the mount- 
He can do much as he likes with the colt, 
both in and out of the stable. With such 

recorded triumphs it is surprising he does 
not get more riding. The reason, however, 
is that English owners just now are so eager 
to use American talent, 

The only American jockey who has ever 
worn the Royal colours is J. Tod Sloan. 
This was at Manchester three years ago on 
Little Dorrit in the Lancashire Nursery, 
the only occasion ; but the mount was 
unsuccessful. Still, since he first came 
to England there is no doubt about 
the sensation and commotion Sloan and 
other subsequent arrivals have caused in 
our jockey camp. The American riders now 
here are numerous; moreover, they are meet- 
ing with wonderful support and victory. 
Sloan and the younger Reiffa short time ago 
carried off all the rar:cs on the second day's 
card at Nottingham* Sloan was born on 
August 10th, 1873, at Kokomo, and he won 
his first race in England in 1897. He holds "a 
tall" record in America, The most important 
of his victories here is Sibola in the One 
Thousand Guineas, and he still fancies that 


by IjOOQI C 


From a rftulf. hy Untie a „ Ntvmnrktl, 

he would have beaten Hying Fox on Holo- 

causte in the Derby but for his mount 

meeting with a fatal accident Sloan's lowest 

riding weight is 7st. 2IU 
* Original from 




A horse that caused 
much excitement and 
interest when carry mg 
the Prince of Wales's 
colours was the own 
brother to Persimmon 
and Diamond Jubilee, 
called Florizel IL Calder, 
Watts, and T. Loates 
were the jockeys of this 
good performer. On his 
back poor Calder was 
victorious in the Man- 
chester Summer Cup of 
1895, and he again suc- 
cessfully steered -the horse 
next year in the Prince's 
Handicap, at Gat wick, 
Calder was n powerful 
rider. But T. Loates's 
turn for Horizel came 
before this, and he can 
boast of having success- 
fully worn the colours in 
the Prince's first race at 
Ascot, Well do I re 

From a Photo, ft v I T. LO AT ES* 

collect this race for the St. James's Palace 
Stakes of 1895, It was set last on the 
card, and the entire Royal party stayed 
to the end to see the horse run, and the 
cheering was tremendous as T. Loates first 
reached the goal. T. Loates has won two 
Derbies, first on Donovan and then on the 
good-looking Isinglass. His eyes of late years 
have troubled him much, but Mr, Leopold de 
Rothschild has still first claim on his services. 
He was born at Derby in 
October, 1867, and is an 
able jockey. He was very 
unfortunate in Persim- 
mon's Derby to lose his 
stirrup just at the critical 
point of that grand set to. 
He was on St, Krusquin^ 
whom Persimmon never 
afterwards defeated. 

The last but not least 
of the jockeys who have 
ridden for the Prince is 
Nat Robinson, a brother 

of the Foxhill trainer, 
who himself in the saddle 
did good service for the 
late James J e win's stable. 
Young Robinson was an 
apprentice of R, Marsh, 
and he has ridden several 
times for the Prince. He 
is the sixth of the series 
of H.R.H/s jockeys that 
we produce in the Royal 
colours* Robinson 
started his career as a 
jockey in 1895, when he 
won two races, but his 
best season's score 
occurred in 1897, when 
he won fifty -nine events* 
He has not done much 
this year, having for his 
health been on a visit to 
Egypt, He only returned 
home to Newmarket a few 
weeks ago. He is a quick 
and intelligent jockey. 

With so small a stud the numerous suc- 
cesses gained in the Royal colours on the flat 
have been remarkable. They are due in the 
first place 10 John Porter, who formed the 
Sandringham stud and trained its early 
produce, and of late years to Lord Marcus 
Beresford and Richard Marsh, Up to and 
including the Sandown Lei ipse Stakes , won 
by Diamond Jubilee, the Prince of Wales 
since starting flat racing, in j886, has won 
seventy races, worth 
^£92,0 1 4, a sum that does 
not include second or 
third money or the 
Grand National and 
other steeplechases* 
H.R.H.'s best year, how- 
ever, was 1896, for both 
numbers and value. He 
then won a dozen races 
worth ^26,819 ; yet with 
the Sl Leger Diamond 
Jubilee in value may sur- 
pass his own brother's 



by Google 

Living Her Qwtt Life. 

By G. M. Robins. 

llUT do you really consider 
that in order to achieve 
success in art one ought 
never to go in for the social 
side of things at all?" urged 
Winnie, ruffling all her 

already unkempt locks afresh with one hand, 

as she stood leaning— in her modelling 

blouse — against the mantel in Philippa 

Wymond's studio, 

In Winnies hand was the subject of 

discussion— a much-crumpled acting edition 

of" As You Like 


Philippa was 

at her easel — a 

tall, finely -de- 
veloped girl, 

whose clothes 

and style of hair 

were aggressively 

modern — ob- 
viously intended 

to emphasize the 

fact that this was 

a revolted mem- 
ber of society, 

who had shaken 

the dust of Philis- 
tinism off her feet 

for ever. It said 

something for 

her attractions 

that, in spite of 

it all, she was 

attractive still. 

She looked both 

reserved and 

determined, but 

there was a subtle 

fascination about 

the eyes and 

about the soft curves of 

mouth which prevented 

seeming hard. 

She laid a square, strong touch with a 

wide brush upon the canvas before her as 

she replied ;— 

" People must follow their own inclinations 

and be guided by their own common sense. I 


a really lovely 
her face from 

Vol j« - 3& 

by LiOOglC 

can't do the two things myself, that's all I know 
about it; and I am too keen about passing 
into the Academy Schools to risk chances by 
going into this thing. Besides/* she added, 
after a pause, with a disdainful downward 
curve of that expressive mouth, "look what 
a crew you have to mix yourself up with — 
Billy Dunster and Casimir Lefanu and all 
that clique ! , Do you think I have kept out 
of it all these months to let myself be caught 
now ? " 

Winnie seesawed doubtfully on her heels 

and toes and 
paused before 
replying. il Are 
you sure that it's 
wise of you, Phil, 
to make yourself 
so unpopular ? " 
Philippa re- 
mained a long 
moment* her 
brush poised in 
mid air, looking 
handsome, and 
a little angry. 

" Who says I 
am unpopular ? " 
"It's only 
since these the- 
atricals that I 
have heard it 
said," replied 
Winnie, " and I 
am inclined to 
think you had 
better know it." 
A m usement 
had succeeded 
disdain in the 
mind of Philippa. 
She laughed a laugh of bewitching sweetness. 
"Well, dear," said she, "I don't think 
it will kill me after all." 

c< You may pretend to despise us all," 
returned Winnie, nettled, "but it does not 
do to be so stand-off, Phil. Ever since you 
came they have been wanting to know who 
you are, where you come from, who your 




people are, and why you keep yourself so 
apart from the rest of us. You need not 
pretend not to know that you are the only 
girl in the school who belongs neither to the 
Hockey, nor the Tennis, nor the Sketch 
Club, nor the Dramatics." 

Philippa whirled her brush over her head 
with a gesture of impatience. 

"They haven't got enough to do in this 
school to mind their own business," cried 
she, with energy. " Why cannot a poor 
creature remain in the obscurity that best 
befits her? What can it matter to Billy 
Dunster who my grandfather was ? If I 
insisted on inviting him to dinner it might ; 
but as I never speak to him from week's end 
to week's end, why should he trouble his 
great mind ? Let him learn his part and be 
easy. I've taken a ticket for their precious 
theatricals, and what more can they expect?" 

" Yes, you've taken a ticket ; but do you 
mean to go ? " asked Winnie, in a low tone. 

Philippa flushed swiftly a vivid red, and 
looked round sharply. " You know a great 
deal, Winnij." 

" I know nothing, Phil. When you cot- 
toned to me and asked me to come and sit 
with you, and said I might call you Phil, 
1 thought we were to be friends : that you 
would not treat me like the rest of the 
students that you despise so." 

" Of what do you complain in my treat- 
ment of you ? " 

" You never tell me anything." 

"Winnie," said her friend, quietly, "once 
I did tell you something : I told you I was 
competing for the Head Master's Prize. 
Next morning Casimir Lefanu knew it." 

It was Winnie's turn to blush. 

" Women who give each other away do 
more to throw back the advancement of 
their sex than ten thousand Bond Street 
walking fashion-plates," quietly said Miss 
Wymond. " Sorry, but you are not far 
enough along the road to greatness to be 
anybody's confidante, my poor little woman." 
There was no answer; Winnie was looking 
baffled and sulky. A sudden thought turned 
Philippa's head like lightning towards her. 
"Did they send you up here this afternoon 
to draw me ? " she demanded : and as she 
was answered only by a burning and down- 
cast face, she added, very gently, "Oh, 
Winnie ! A traitor ! " 

" I am nothing of the kind," replied the 
girl, angrily. " It is you, rather, who are the 
traitor : among us but not of us, living by 
yourself and to yourself. When you joined 
the Kyrle Schools you made yourself a 

by Google 

member of a community : but you repudiate 
all the ties of membership." 

" I recognise Bernard Larkin's style ; or is 
it Billy after all ? " asked Philippa, ironically. 
" Why is it impossible for human beings to 
leave anyone alone ? Now, if I were to go in 
for criticising them, or complain of them in 
any way ! But I never do ; I am probably the 
one student who has never said a spiteful 
thing of one of them ; and yet they must set 
to work to poison the mind of the only girl I 
could talk to a little sometimes. I think you 
had better take yourself and your play out of 
the room for a while, my dear ; you have put 
my monkey up." 

" I think you are unjust and nonsensical," 
said Winnie, warmly. " You talk of being let 
alone ; can you pretend that you don't know 
that you're. by far the most striking girl in the 
schools ? Can you pretend not to know that 
the Chief would give his eyes if you would 
play Rosa lindl And you ought to play it; 
you can act — you have actually played the 
part, for you told me so " 

" Another confidence which apparently has 
not been respected," observed Philippa, with 
a curling lip ; and Winnie flounced out of 
the room with an angry word. 

" They should send somebody less trans- 
parent than that poor child, when they plot 
to make me commit myself," she murmured, 
with heaving breast, when she found herself 
alone. " Oh me, for the hatefulness of one's 
neighbour—!" "the brute world howling." 
Yes, they do howl. Because I am young and 
passably good-looking I may not work with- 
out distraction ! What right has a young 
woman to work ? Is she not a toy, a thing 
to amuse other people ? Can she have a 
vocation, a life-work ? Oh, no, she must fulfil 
her destiny of dressing in pretty clothes to 
be looked at ! Worst and best, men are all 
alike. No girl is to be allowed to take her- 
self seriously." 

As she reflected her hand closed, almost 
imperceptibly, over a letter she had received 
that morning, which lay on a table among 
tubes of colour, German dictionaries, and 
unwashed dinner-things. She made a con- 
temptuous grimace as she glanced at it :— 
" The Lodge, Polesley. 

"Dear Philippa, — Herewith is inclosed 
your quarterly instalment. If you should 
need more, please let me know. I hope you 
are well and happy ; I am neither, but am 
aware that the fact lies outside the wide 
range of your interests. — Yours sincerely, 
Val Arkwright." 

" He would like me to take a villa at 
Original from 



2 99 

Tooting, and settle down with one maid and 
a charwoman, and the baby's mail-cart in the 
front passage," muttered she. u Yes, even 
Val, who pretended to love me ! There was 
more excuse for the parents, because they 
are a generation behind and could not 
understand ; for him there is none." 

She bestowed a few aimless strokes at 
random on her canvas, and then quite 
suddenly flung down palette and brushes and 
snatched out her handkerchief to intercept a 
burst of uncontrollable tears. 

il How am I to live in the world at all if 
everybody is so detestable ? w sobbed she, 
casting herself down upon a sofa + " When I 
have a destiny before me ! I have ! I know 
it— I feel it ! It is not as though I were a 
vain idiots eaten up with conceit I have 
abilities, and 
cannot help 
knowing it. All 
I ask is to be 
let alone and 
allowed to work, 
and that I am 
denied ! " 

She walked up 
and down, her 
handkere h i e f 
twisted and 
dragged between 
her nervous 
fingers; and pre- 
sently, being a 
woman and 
young and hand- 
some, she stop- 
ped before a 
looking-glass and 
gazed lJt it ; then 
with a movement 
as sudden as the 
tears had been, 
she pulled out a 
lonj; tortoise- 
shell hair-pin and 
let the masses of 
her burnished 
hair fall about 
her shoulders. 

"The Chief 
would give his eyes if you would play 
Rosalind^ she murmured. " Well, then, 
1 shall play Rosalind/ After all, it 
attracts more notice apparently to abstain 
from their ridiculous play than to join in 
it ! Winnie has conquered, after all. 1 will 
play Rosalind^ and if I know myself, I shall 
have very little difficulty in keeping Orlando 



at a respectful distance." She fastened up 
the beautiful locks, "Of course, the state 
of things between Val and me does oblige 
me to be careful. Rut he knows me better 

than to think I am hateful enough to- " 

She paused, her eyes full of reflection, 
then, pulling her blotter towards her, scribbled 
a line : — 

*' Dear Val, — I received your remittance 
to-day, with many thanks. I am getting 
terribly in your debt, but also I am progress- 
ing so well with my work that I feel sure of 
being able to repay you before long ; and I 
put by something every quarter, so that I 
could really do with less. I am sorry you 
have sent me to Coventry j I see as little as 
ever why you should, and it would be a 
pleasure to show you my work and hear 
what you think of 
it. They are getting up 
3 play at this horrid 
place, and I have been 
worried into saying that 
I will play the part of 
Rosalind* Why cannot 
they leave me alone ? 
I would not stay 
but for Lemo- 
ine's teaching ; 
there is no such 
other in Lon- 
don ; but I sup- 
pose wherever 
1 went I should 
find p e c> p I e 
just as horrid, 
as unable to 
believe in a girl's 
singleness of 
purpose. Some 
of the things you 
said to me about 
the world and its 
ways were true, 
I regret to say* 
But, unlike you, 
I do not hold 
that because 
people have 
horrid minds 
one is to give up 
every plan, lest it should be misunderstood. 
On the contrary, if no one will be^in to 
prove to them that there are women who 
honestly wish to work and are not on the 
continual look-out for male admiration, how 
can society ever be reformed ? I will make 
you own I am right yet. — Your sincere friend, 

PHiLippA. ,J Originalfrom 




Perched on a high stool in the studio, 
known as the " Large Antique, 3 * and sur- 
rounded by a group of young men, Winnie 
Spence was in her element. 

** She rounded on me," she was saying 
excitedly, "and asked if you had all put me 



up to going to her ; so I thought I had 
settled my hash and that nothing would 
make her act after that. However, I left it 
to soak in ; and what was my surprise when 
a few hours after I met the Chief, and he told 
me that Miss Wymond was going to play 
Rosalind I I could not believe it." 

"I'll keep my promise, Miss Spence: Til 
take you to the theatre," said Bernard 
I^arkin, enthusiastically. " YouVe a regular 
brick, and the whole school is obliged to 
you. It would have been too mortifying, 
with a beauty like that in the school, not to 
have her in the show," and the young man, 
who was the Apollo of the Kyrle T and was to 
be the Orlando of the cast, ran his fingers 
through his curly, dark hair. 

"What fun it will be ! ni cried Winnie, who 
was cast for Audrey. iL She will never be 
able to come the high and mighty over you 
all after this ! She may think she can retire 

into her shell again, but she won't ; nothing 
makes one so intimate as theatricals. 1 ' 

" I am going to get my friend Locksley, of 
the Academy Schools, to coach me in my 
part," observed Larkin* " He's a clever 
if you like ; the sort of fellow who 
could do anything he put his 
hand to. He knows Miss 
Wymond, by the way, for he 
asked me something about her 
only the other day.' 1 

" What ! " sharply cried 
Winnie. " Are you sure ? 
Because, if you are, it is par- 
ticularly interesting, for I always 
thought that Wymond was an 
assumed name, I'm almost 
certain that I once saw the 
envelope of a letter to her 
with some other name on it" 
" Well, you are wrong there, 
I think; he said Miss Philippa 
Wymond, as plainly as possible. 
He asked me what was thought 
of her work herej I told him 
her work was not up to much, 
but that she herself was great 
things, only nobody could get 
at her. I told him that the 
Chief passed all her things 
because she is so fetching, and 
he was afraid if she didn't 
think she was getting on she 
would leave. He said he 
thought that was mean ; and 
he was right ; so it is." 

* £ I suspect Miss Wymond 
has a past of some sort ■ the 
ambition of such a handsome girl to become 
an R.A. student is quite inexplicable on any 
other grounds, 7 ' said Casimir Lcfanu, with 
his slanting smile, 

"Did she know I^arkin was to play 
Orlando ? " asked Billy Dunster, slily. Winnie 
nodded. " I told her J+ ; and the whole 
group laughed a little. They did not mean 
to he either ill-bred or unkind ; the know- 
ledge that they were either would have greatly 
surprised them. 

At the moment Philippa herself appeared, 
walking slowly to her place before the 
Hermes of Praxiteles, which she was drawing 
for her studentship. Two or three of them 
cried out to her how glad they were that she 
w*as going to act. She faced them with a 
cold look, her head held high, 

"I asked Lemoine whether he thought it 
would make any difference to my Academy 
chances, anPiWWdf^No/ " said she, 



with frozen sweetness. " So 
I decided to try + " 

" Any difference to her 
Academy chances!" they snig- 
gered among themselves after- 
wards. " No, indeed, nothing 
could do that ! 'Cute of old 
Lemoine ! " 

It was after the fifth or 
sixth rehearsal that Philippa 
felt herself, by almost in- 
sensible degrees, obliged to 
drop in part the veil of reserve 
which she had always hitherto 
drawn between herself and 
the students. Her whole 
nature was intensely dra- 
matic ; had she but known 
it, her artistic aspirations 
were but a dramatic pose; 
she was a far better actress 
than draughtswoman, and the whole 
of amateurs kindled into something like 
thusiasm at the spark of her ability. She 
loved Shakespeare, and she loved Rosalind ; 
moreover, her Orlando was not only person- 
able, but he had histrionic gifts of no mean 
order; and she could not wholly conceal 
from herself the fact that it was a pleasure to 
act with him. 

A few days after her decision was first 
taken she received the following letter:— 

"Dear Philippa, — Have you reflected that 
the part of Rosalind demands a doublet and 
hose?— Yours sincerely, Val Arkwrk;ht." 

To this she replied : — 

" Dear Val t — Are you afraid that I shall 
acquire a doublet and hose in my disposition? 
— Yours sincerely, Philippa/' 

An answer was received to this effect : — 

"Dear Philippa, — No, that is not possible; 
but I know that you desire it, — Yours sin- 
cerely, Val Akkwright," 

This last was really too contemptible to 
merit a retort, so it received none. 

Meanwhile, Orlando was receiving most 
valuable coaching in his part from his friend 
Locksley of the R.A. Schools, 

'* A brilliant sort of beggar, Locksley," he 
was wont to say ; " I wish he would come to 
rehearsals and drill us all a bit ; he does the 
wrestling scene better than I shall ever do it* 
He had Charles and me up in his rooms 
last night, and put us through our paces 
finely. He takes me right through my 
part, night after night, I've tried hard 
to get him to come here, hut he won't 
go anywhere ; some woman has spoilt his 


u Spoilt his life?" said Winnie, inquisi- 
tively. This sounded interesting. 

" Yes j he partly told me about it. She 
married him, and then he found out she 
didn't care for hirn. He was in good prac- 
tice as a doctor, but he threw it all up and 
left the place where he lived — somewhere in 
the Midlands; be couldn't face people after- 
wards, I suppose," 

"Is he ugly ? " inquired Winnie, 

" Not he ; a great fine chap : he could 
floor Charles a good deal better than I can ; 
in fact, you know, Forbes " — the student who 
took the part of the wrestler — u is a good 
deal stronger Lhan I am really." 

" I wish your friend would come to a 
rehearsal," said Miss S pence, 

" He is coming to the performance," 
replied I^irkin ; "and though I say it, 1 think 
he will be pleased with the wrestling: it is 
not bad for amateurs ; if only Forbes doesn't 
get too excited and give me a bit too 
much! ?s 

"Go on ; I shaVt," said Forbes, who was a 
muscular, broad, bandy young fellow, with a 
good heart, but a hot temper. 

"Wish Fd cultivated my muscle a bit 
more/' observed Orlando, pensively. "I go 
to the Gym now regularly every day after 
work, and I really am getting harder ; at first 
I used to sit down and howl every time 
Forbes g otQll«fl^rfrfl8>» 




"Nonsense," said Winnie. "But, I say, 
doesn't Philippa do her part grandly ? I am 
simply longing for the dress rehearsal, to see 
her in her boy's dress ; Lemoine has designed 
it, and it is simply ravishing : all green and 
russet, and the sweetest little cap in the 

" How do you like my doublet ? " asked 
Larkin. " Locksley lent it to me ; it is what 
he wore when he did the part ; he is just my 
height. Lemoine thinks it a ripping get-up." 

" I think we shall be proud of the good 
old school when the night arrives," cried 
Billy Dunster, with unction. 

They were, perhaps, the most delightful 
days that Philippa Wymond had ever known. 
Brought up in a sleepy town in the Midlands, 
she had early imbibed ideas of emancipation, 
from a governess who longed to exploit the 
handsome, clever girl, and to get her away 
from her mediocre surroundings. When Val 
Arkwright bought the old doctor's practice 
and settled in the place he lost no time in 
losing his heart to Miss Wymond. She 
scorned him with the intense scorn of the 
very young modern woman. Marriage had 
no place in her programme — at least, not for 
years and years to come. She was going to 
London to be a bachelor girl, and live her 
own Life with a very large L. It was only 
when, to her rage and mortification, her 
parents flatly negatived all these lofty ideas, 
and refused outright to supply the neces- 
sary sinews of war, that it occurred to 
Philippa to look on marriage as a possible 
outlet, a possible method of gaining her own 
way. She was not really quite so hateful as 
such an idea suggests ; she was only selfish 
with that vast selfishness which is inculcated 
by the literature imbibed by the modern girl. 
Of duty and sacrifice she had no notion, only 
of her own desires, her own abilities, her own 
development. Her unsuspicious parents 
were delighted to see her, as they 
hoped, happily and normally in love, and 
married to a rising young man, who had 
some private means of his own as well as a 
thriving practice. Val was very much in 
love ; his bride quite expected to be able to 
twist him round her little finger ; when she 
found him as unreasonable as her parents 
had been, she simply could not understand it. 
Surely he must see that the law of her being 
demanded that she should have scope. She 
was so persuaded that the domestic life was 
of necessity a narrow one, that she believed 
no intelligent person could think otherwise. 
That Val should accuse her of marrying him 
under false pretences ! Why, she had re- 


fused him once, and in accepting him had 
carefully explained that she did not hold 
with " being in love," as the saying is ; to 
which he had made the regulation besotted 
reply of the lover, that if she would but 
marry him, "the love would come." 

Fair warning had been his : yet, in that 
terrible, stormy interview after their marriage, 
he had acted as though he had been be- 
trayed. He told her she should have the 
one thing for which she had married him — 
the cash necessary for her art education, and 
nothing more. He was not a demonstrative 
man : she did not fully realize his contempt 
Superbly she undertook to repay him all 
when the world should recognise her great 
talent ; and with no regret and a happy heart 
she took her way to London. It was six 
months since their parting, which took place 
on the evening of their wedding day. Val, ac- 
cording to his wife's ideas, was still sulking; 
that is to say, he declined to come and see 
her, and seemed to take no interest in her 
rise and progress ! It was a far cry from 
Polesley to London, and she knew the 
demands of his practice ; but she was 
conscious of a wish that he should behold 
her as Ro$alind % on the eve of the day that 
was to witness her further triumph ; for the 
Academy List was to be out on the morning 
after the performance. She had* only been 
acquainted with her husband for three 
months before their marriage, and her 
courtship had been a short one; she knew 
very little of Val. 

His brief letters still reached her with the 
Polesley post- mark ; that he was still there 
it would never have occurred to her to 
question. Had he removed, surely her 
father and mother would have mentioned it, 
for she still heard from them, though she 
was, as she impenitently remarked, " in their 
black books." 

The great Antique Studio had been turned 
into a theatre by the skilful efforts of many 
willing hands; it was full to overflowing of 
visitors when the eventful evening of " As 
You Like It " arrived. 

Philippa was radiant in beauty and spirits. 
That little barbed shaft of Winnie's about 
her being unpopular had rankled, as the 
young lady meant that it should. Miss 
Wymond had thawed during the rehearsals, 
and by degrees, as she felt the charm of her 
power, had become a different creature, 
sparkling and gracious, revelling in the sun 
of admiration. This, indeed, was life — this, 
indeed, was better than the Girl's Friendly teas 
at Polesley Vicarage 3 or the charades at the 

_- 1 1 >-i 1 1 1 >.i i 1 1 ■_■ 1 1 1 




Manor House at Christmas time, which had 
been her wildest dissipations, until her am- 
bitious governess had brought her to stay in 
London. And when she might be tasting 
such delights Val had wished her to settle 
down as the wife of a country doctor I 

Bernard I^arkin, the Orlando^ seemed in a 
very excited state : he was nervous about the 
wrestling ; young Forbes was nettled because 
he was nervous, seeming to think that I^arkin 
was apprehensive that he would not play fair ; 
the two both seemed a little out of them- 
selves. All went well, however : the wrestling 
was a brilliant bit of work for amateurs ; but 
the last tussle struck Philippa, who was watch- 
ing with all her might, as somewhat deadly. 
She thought she saw Orlando reel slightly, as 
C/Mr/wwas thrown ; and when she approached 
to congratulate him it was evident that either 
he was acting a trifle too well or that he 
really had a difficulty in replying to her 
His final cry — 

O, poor Orlando, ihou art overthrown, 

Or Charles, or something weaker, masters ihee, 

was barely out of his mouth 
when the curtain was rung 
sharply down ; and I^rkin, 
staring about like one who 
could not see, fell into the 
Tinns of Forbes who rushed 
forward from the wings. 

"He is fainting ; Forbes 
was too rough with him," 
whispered Celia to Rosalind ; 
and they looked with dismay 
at each other. 

" Hell be all right," hur- 
riedly said the stnge manager. 
" You two mustn't delay, or 
you won't be in your other 
clothes in time," 

They hurried off, but, as 
they dressed, bits of deplor- 
able news began to arrive* 
" He's badly hurt" "They 
think he's strained himself 
inside." "The Chief is 
giving it to Forbes. 5 ' "They 
say he can't go on,' 1 " What 
ever is to be done ? " " ^Vhat 
a fortunate thing ! Do you 
know what they are going to 
do ? Mr. Locksley is in the 
audience, and he's going to 
take it ! He coached poor 
Lark in ! The dress fits him ! 
He knows all the business ! " 
" I say, Miss Wymond, what 
shall you do ? " 

gilized by Google 

" Rise to the emergency, I hope," said 
Philippa, with carmine cheeks and brilliant 

The situation piqued and stimulated her, 
Locksley had been the unknown hero of the 
entire school for the past few weeks- Her 
courage mounted high, her heart beat at the 
thought that she was to act with him ; she 
was so sure of her part, she could help him 
through ! 

As they dressed } more news was brought. 

"They've begun." "The audience don't 
know the difference." 

" He's the same height, the same wig, the 
same make-up," "He is clever!" "A belter 
voice than Lark in 's — more assurance ! " 
" How lucky that he was here ! " 

Rosalind was only out of her dressing- 
room just in time to make her entrance with 
Touchstone and Celia, She had not so 
much as seen the strange Orlando ; and she 
could not but feel a little real nervousness 
as Celta described his approach ; her cry, 
" What shall I do with my doublet and 




hose?" came from her very heart, and it 
was with a strange perturbation of spirits 
that she watched the tall, graceful figure 
strolling through the forest glades, his eyes 
upon the paper of verses in his hand. 

Then, forthwith, a thrill ran through her, 
for when Orlando lifted his gaze to hers, and 
they stood confronted — behold, Locksley was 
none other than Val, her husband ! 

The rush of feelings and of surmises was 
so great that for a few perceptible seconds 
she could not speak. How came he there? 
Was he, too, an artist? What would he 
think of her in her male attire? His glance, 
good-humouredly ironical, seemed to show 
that, if anything, he despised her. A wild 
feeling of suffocation overtook her ; an icy 
something was mounting upwards to her 
heart ; another moment and she would faint ; 
it was that cool, sarcastic challenge in VaPs 
eyes that brought her back to reason. Was 
she going to fail? Never! She stepped out 
and gave the next lines of her part with 
renewed gusto; and a critic of the stage, 
who was in "the audience, turned to his 
neighbour and said : " That girl is a genius ; 
I have never seen such a bit of acting as that, 
not in the best London theatres." 

The rest of that evening was always after- 
wards a blank in Philippa's mind. She knew 
that she distinguished herself, for people told 
her so afterwards ; but her own memory 
failed to record any one of the thousand 
impressions that crowded upon it. The 
evening's laurels were by no means exclusively 
hers : they were extensively shared by the 
Orlando who had rescued the play and the 
school out of such an unfortunate impasse, 
Val took his honours very coolly ; it was 
his air of coolness and detachment that 
struck and confused Philippa. When first 
they met, after the play was over, in the 
green-room, he went up to her with a quiet 
ease of manner, and held out his hand. 

" May I venture to claim a slight previous 
acquaintance with Miss Wymond ? v he 

" She does not remember you, for I asked 
her the other day," put in Winnie Spence, 
with alacrity. " I said you had told Mr. 
Larkin that you thought you knew her, and 
she said she did not knc the name." 

" I remember now I have met Mr. 
Locksley," replied Philippa, with an effort ; 
*" but I did not know he was an art student." 

"I passed into the Academy Schools a 
good many years ago," he replied, *'and 
then decided not to avail myself of the 
studentship ; but lately I changed my mind, 

so I applied to the authorities, and as a 
special favour they waived the rules and let 
me in, although I am so much over age." 

"No wonder they let him in," said Billy 
Dunster, admiringly. " He is no end of a 
swell ; we of Kyrle's are not in the same 
street with him." 

" Oh ! " said Val, " but I understand that 
Miss Wymond is going to make the school 
famous ; we shall * meet now and then, I 
hope, when you are in the R.A., Miss 

Philippa thought they probably would ; 
she felt strange and unready ; in some 
mysterious manner Val had taken the wind 
out of her sails. That night on which she 
had expected to retire to rest in a blaze of 
glory she was, as a matter of fact, conscious 
of but one idea — that she had been made to 
play second fiddle by the husband whom 
she had regarded little, and vaguely looked 
down upon. " A brilliant chap ! " had been 
the universal verdict upon Val. 

Dimly she thought she could recollect 
that, in courtship days, Val had confessed 
that he had himself " spoiled a certain 
amount of canvas " before he took to 
doctoring ; but she had not heeded ; her 
own future and not her lover's past had been 
what interested her at the time ; the shy 
confidences of the young man, humble 
because he loved so deeply, had been things 
of little moment. 

Now she had to own that, if at the schools 
Val turned out to be a greater swell than 
she, she would look rather foolish. She had 
more than insinuated, when he and she had 
discussed the subject, that the world would 
be irretrievably injured should the talents of 
Philippa Arkwright be allowed to remain in 
obscurity. Had this man, who had earned 
that entrance to the schools which she 
so highly prized, and not even cared to 
follow it up, perhaps thought her a 
trifle ridiculous in her egotism? The 
bare fact that such a reflection crossed 
the young woman's mind might be taken as 
proof that Val, in the lesson he had given 
that evening — proving himself at a stroke 
her equal at least in two branches of that 
Art which she loved to spell with a capital 
— had really taught her something. 

To sleepless eyes it seemed a weary while 
before it was time for the post to arrive 
next morning. It brought no welcome 
envelope from Burlington House. But the 
Post Office is not infallible, and her belief in 
herself was still unshaken. She would go 
down to Piccadilly and see the list. Of 




course, not because there was any doubt 
that her own name would he among the first 
dozen, but because it was the custom of the 
students to foregather there. But it was not 
the thing to go down too early: that would 
be to display an unbecoming eagerness. 
Nor must it be left too late, lest some 
returning friend should bring in the news 
second-hand; in the result she went down 
about twelve. 

It is not too much to say that her brain 

reeled under the shock Surely - . . . 

it was a mistake ! . . . . Why, even Billy 

" M:kELV , ■ , IT WAS A MISTAKE J ** 

Dunster was in ! , . , , Oh, crowning horror, 
Casimir l.efanu was in ! . . . . And her own 
name, not only below the fatal bar, but so 
far below it --below any of those who had 
gone up from the Kyrlc! 

She stood a few minutes, trying to take it 
in ; to take in the awful fact that she had no 
more prospect of being able to repay Val the 
cost of her training than she had six months 
ago. It must— it must be a mistake. Two 
or three fellow-students came up and con- 

doled with her cheerfully. M Beastly hard 
luck/' they called it; but even Philippa's 
vanity could see that they were not in the 
least surprised. 

All the world was different ; everything 
other than she had thought it ; her conviction 
of her own ability, carefully fostered by an 
injudicious governess, captive, like Val 3 to 
the girl's personal charm, began to totter and 
crumble; for though Philippa was vain and 
ignorant, she was not a fool : she had some 
elements of greatness in her; Val's instinct 
when he fell in love with her had not been 
wholly at fault, 

She crossed Piccadilly with 
an effort, for her knees were 
trembling under her, and 
entered an Aerated Bread shop, 
not because she wanted lunch, 
but because she felt that she 
must sit down and think. She 
ordered a bun and some milk, 
which she could not touch ; 
and sat in a dark corner, with 
the tears flowing unostenta- 
tiously, though visibly enough 
to the young man who had 
followed her in and was watch- 
ing her every movement 

When she felt able to stand 
she rose, paid her modest 
reckoning, and sought the 
special green 'bus which would 
put her down at what her 
bachelor-girl friends were wont 
to call u her digs/ 1 

Standing in her studio, 
among her many canvases, she 
controlled her first melodra- 
matic desire to slash at them 
with a dinner - knife. They 
looked wondrous bad, viewed 
from her new standpoint ; but 
she might improve. For the 
future she must send back 
I Val's remittances, take to pot- 

boiling — try again for the R,A, 
Would she succeed next time? If she 
did not, she would be over age, Was this 
life, after all, more profitable than the one 
she might have spent at Val's side? 

Well, but she had no choice now. Val's 
cool, ironical, contemptuous manner had 
shown her that the alternative was no longer 
hers. She must perforce continue this life of 
daubing and loneliness and disappointment ; 
should she now ask Val to forgive her, 
what could he Junk of such a woman ? The 




glimpse she bad had of his contempt gave 
her no desire to increase it. 

At last she might give way ; there was 
nobody to see and despise ; she sank down 
upon the models H throne " and wept a storm 
of tears. 

She did not hear the door open, or the 
landlady mumbling that a gentleman had 
called : she wept on unrestrained until the 
gentleman in question came near, and with 
perhaps the greatest effort of self-command of 
his whole life touched her lightly on the 

She did not start ; she sat up in her woe, 
feeling a sort of defiant gladness that he 

"ilK Tm:(J]1KD ItlLK LTGIITI.V Ohr lilt: SHOULPtSlV 

should see her at her very worst, all disfigured 
by crying ; he would know that she was not 
trying to fascinate him. She choked back 
the tears, pulling out a little square of 
damp embroidered cam brie which struck Val 
as queerly pathetic, and after a minute she 
found a voice. 

u You have come to gloat over me; it is 
your right ; you have beaten me all round, 
and I know and feel that I am a vain egotist 
and have greatly overrated my ability. But — 

but— I should like you to think that you have 
overrated my meanness, After this I cannot 
take any more of your money " . . , a long 
pause. Val did not move or break it . . . 
"and I am glad you are here, for I wish to 
say that I feel — I partly realize— how hateful 
it was of me to marry you at all." 

414 It was in hopes of hearing you say that 
that I came," said Val, softly* He sat 
down beside her on the edge of the 
u throne." 

" I did not come to gloat, Philippa \ only 
to ask you to come home." 

lt Home ! " she cried, with a fresh burst of 
grief. "There is no home ! I have driven 
you away from your life and your 
work, and — and — I don't think I 
could live with anybody who 
despised me as you do." 

*' Phil, my dearest, may I say 
something without your ordering me 
out of the room ? I thought, when 
we parted, that your experiment 
might last about six months, if I 
gave you your head and let you do 
as you liked* So 1 put in a locum 
tettens at Polesley, and for aught 
that people there know to the con- 
trary, you and I have had a pro- 
tracted honeymoon. It — h'm — 
hasn't quite been that for me, as 
you may guess ; but believe me, my 
own, I never meant to let you go out 
of my liTe ; I saw I had not won 
you ; but I mean to do so if I can. 
Will you come, little woman, and 
let me try ? " 

44 Mut you must, you must despise 
me ! " she cried afresh, covering her 
face, lest he should see the colour 
that flooded it 

Val removed the hands with the 
greatest determination, and kissed 
her on the mouth, 

"What have I said or done, Phil, 
that you should take me for a prig ? " 

But to this day Mrs. Arkwright 
remains in ignorance of the fact that Orlando 
and Charles were her husband's suborned 
accomplices. And Larkin and Forbes, to 
their honour be it said, have kept their own 
counsel valiantly, Forbes ben ring without a 
murmur the odium of having, by a foolish 
display of horseplay, jeopardized the success 
of the Kyrle's greatest effort His admira- 
tion for Val and Philippa is great enough 
to render him indifferent lo blame on this 


The Zeppelin Air-Ship. 

By Thomas E. Curtis. 

Photos* by Alfred Weif^ Constanz. These are the only photographs authorized by Count Zeppelin* 

ITH all these experiments going 
on we ought soon to be able 
to travel through the air. The 
i United flying -machine in- 
vented by Professor I^angley, a 
few years ago, proved that fly- 
ing-machines could fly ; and the more recent 
experiments by Schwa rz and Danilewsky have 
increased the belief that the era of aerial 
flight was near. The latest experiment, made 

two big windows {eleven on each side) find 
its almost innumerable pontoons (on which 
the huge building floated), has for many 
months been an object of great attraction 
to those visiting the beautiful Swiss lake. 

The illustration with which we open this 
article, while it does not show the pointed 
end, so constructed to diminish the resist- 
ance of the air, gives an admirable idea of 
the balloon-house. Four hundred and fifty 



only a month or two ago, by Count Zeppelin, 
on I^ike Constance, with one of the most 
ingenious, expensive, and carefully - con- 
structed balloons of modern times, was so 
successful in proving the rigidity and safety of 
an air-ship at a high altitude, that the com- 
plete submission of the air to the mechanism 
of man seems nearer than ever at hand. The 
interest of the whole scientific world in the 
experiment was deep, and an unwonted 
exhibition of interest by the ordinary public 
took place. 

The balloon was constructed in a wooden 
shed on I^ake Constance, at a little town 
called Manzell, near Friedrichshafen, and 
this curious pointed structure, with twenty- 

Digitized by Lt< 

feet long, seventy-eight broad, and sixty-six 
high, it is, indeed, a formidable object The 
rear end, through which we are able to see 
part of the air-ship f is usually covered with a 
curtain, to ward off the curious ; and the 
front end is given up to offices* store-rooms, 
and sleeping accommodation for such work- 
men as have to act as sentinels at night. 

There tan tie little doubt that this con- 
struction shed is one of the most perfect of 
its kind ever devised, and, incidentally, it 
shows the care and skill with which Count 
Zeppelin and his engineers prepared them- 
selves against untoward delay and accident 
in the consummation of their great plan. If, 
for instance, we conld row up to this 


3 o3 


immense floating structure we should find it 
resting gracefully on ninety-five pontoons, 
and we could understand the advantage 
which such a shed, floating on the bosom 

the pontoons support the shed, and that the 
remainder support the balloon. In other 
words, the balloon, on its own supports, can 
be easily moved in and out of the shed. 


1 JUL 


of an open lake, would have for the inventor 
in the experimental trials of his machine. 
No ground to fall upon, and nothing to 
run against ! Again, by anchoring his shed 
at one point only the inventor allows it 
to turn, as on a pivot, with the wind, and 
thus gains the aid of the wind in getting his 
balloon out of the shed with the minimum of 
damage and the maximum of speed. 

The cost of the construction of the build 
ing in which the balloon was housed alone 
exceeded 200,000 marks. The plans of the 
workshop were made by Herr Tafcl, a well- 
known Stuttgart architect, and the con- 
struction of the balloon was intrusted to 
Herr Kaubler. The construction was carried 
out by seventy carpenters and thirty me- 
chanics, and that the work was done well 

The exit, taking place, for reasons already 
given, in the direction of the wind, and 
assisted by it, is particularly safe, as the 
danger of pressure in the balloon against the 
sides of a shed — so common in sheds built on 
land— is avoided. It is reasonably certain 
that all experiments in air ship construction 
will in future take place on water, owing to 
the success and ease with which the Zeppelin 
balloon has been taken in and out of its 
house on 1 ,ake Constance. 

When the balloon is ready for an ascent it 
is pulled out of the shed on its own pontoons ; 
and when its flight is over it is placed on the 
pontoon-floor and drawn into the shed. 
Each operation takes but a few minutes* 
Our second illustration, and several succeed- 
ing illustrations* gives an excellent idea of 


and carefully is shown by the fact that every 
separate piece of material used in the air-ship 
had been tested at least twice. 

A word or two more about the shed and 
we may leave it, with the balloon. If we 
examine closely we discover that part only of 

the floor upon which the balloon rests before 
flight. It also affords us our first real view 
of the huge cigar-like structure that has so 
recently flown itself into world-wide fame. 
Conical at both ends T in order that resistance 
to the air may be lessened, and cylindrical 




in shape* it measures 390ft* in length, and 
has a diameter of about 39ft, It looks, even 
at a close view, like a single balloon ; but, 
in reality; it consists of seventeen small 
balloons, because it is divided into seventeen 
sections, each gas-tight, like the water-tight 
compartments on board a steamship. The 

gases) has been proved to last for two or 
three weeks. 

The exterior of the balloon is made of 
pegamoid, which protects it both from sun 
and rain. The total capacity of the interior 
balloons is about 12,000 cubic yards of 
hydrogen gas ; and* lest any of our readers 




interior is a massive framework of aluminium 
rods, stretching from one end of the balloon 
to the other, and held in place by seventeen 
polygonal rings, arranged 24ft. apart Each 
ring is supported by aluminium wires, and 
the whole interior, looked at from one end, 
appears as if a lot of bicycle wheels had 
been placed side by side. The whole series 
of seventeen sections is covered with a 
tough and light network of ramie. 

Each section, as we have said, is a balloon 
in itself, and each section is covered with a 
light silk texture, which, by vinue of an india- 
rubber coating, is, in the general sense of 
the word, gas-tight So tight, indeed, ha?? 
each balloon been made, that one filling of 
hydrogen (the lightest and most volatile of 

should bankrupt himself by attempting to 
construct a Zeppelin balloon, we may as well 
add that each filling costs in the neighbour- 
hood of ^500. When the balloon is ready 
to be filled t the hydrogen gas, in 2,200 iron 
bottles, is brought alongside the balloon-shed 
on pontoons, each containing 130 bottles, and 
all connected with each other, thus forming a 
single reservoir, which in turn is connected 
with the balloon by a distributing pipe. It 
takes five hours to fill the whole balloon. 

It is one thing to build a balloon and 
another thing to make it go. It is still 
another thing to be able to control its flight, 
steering it this way and that, with the wind and 
against it. Hundreds of inventors, including 
the lamented Darius Green, have failed 








because oF their methods of steering and pro- 
pulsion, or the absence of each. But it is 
in these very respects that Count Zeppelin 
may well be said to have been successful 
More, however, of that anon. Suffice to say 
here that the propulsion of the great balloon 
under consideration is effected by four screws 
made of aluminium, all working as do the 
propellers of a ship. Two of these screws 
are situated about a third of the total length 
from the bow, and the other two a like 
distance from the stern. Each screw makes 
over a thousand revolutions a minute. 

In several of our illustrations the cars of 
the balloon are plainly shown. These also 
are made of aluminium — indeed, every part 
of the air-ship is made of the lightest possible 

the balloon is raised or lowered at the bow 
or stern. In our illustrations on the last 
four pages of this article — particularly on 
page 313 — we may observe the balloon at a 
decided angle in the sky, This shows the 
work of the sliding weight It was secured 
in the centre of the dragging cable, the ends 
of which were fastened fore and aft. As the 
dragging -cable was about 328ft. long, with a 
slack of about 75 %i\.* the stability of the 
vessel was greatly improved* The heavy, 
deep-hanging weight acted as a regulator of 
the pendulum-like motion of the air-ship. In 
order to provide for a descent into the water 
the sliding weight is inclosed in a water-tight 
box filled with air, which causes the box to 
floal when it touches the water. The value 


material— and are attached to the inner frame- 
work by rods and wires. The cars are about 
5ft, broad and 3ft, deep, and are situated 
each under a pair of screws, which may 
be noted projecting from the sides of the 
balloon. The cars carry the motors for 
driving the propellers, and benzine, by virtue 
of not requiring such heavy machinery to use it 
with, has been chosen for the motive power. 
Enough benzine may be carried to work the 
balloon for ten successive hours* It may 
be added that the cars of the balloon ate 
connected, as shown in our photographs, by 
a narrow passage- way, made of aluminium 
wires and plates, which are firmly connected 
with the balloon above. 

One very noteworthy feature of this latest 
air-ship is the sliding weight— made of lead 
and weighing 300 kilos— by means of which 

of this piece of mechanism was proved, as is 
hereafter shown, when the first experiment in 
flight was made, although an unfortunate 
accident occurred to ii, which brought the 
flight to an abrupt conclusion. 

One word more and we arc done with the 
technical construction of the balloon. The 
steering apparatus consists of rudders placed 
at rhe bow and stern of the balloon, and con- 
trolled by wires attached to the two cars. 
Each rudder is made of cloth with a frame- 
work of aluminium. 

The Government lent its aid in a manner 
worthy of emulation by Governments which 
are less up to date- When, for instance, the 
inventor discovered that by allowing his 
building to float freely about on the lake he 
was hampering himself with considerable 
difficulties, QriflinriAifemaackyards at Kiel 




came to his support with the loan of four 
gigantic anchors, by which the floating work- 
shop could be fastened. The Kaiser was 
interested in the airship throughout its con- 
struction, and only the inventor and his 
immediate colleagues will ever know how 
much the Imperial aid and interest stimu- 
lated them in their endeavours. 

The 30th of June last witnessed a tremen- 
dous gathering of scientific men and others 

formed with a capital of ^40,000, half of 
which was contributed by Count Zeppelin, 
chartered a steamer on that day and carried 
the experts to the scene of the trials, A delay 
in filling the balloon occurred and the trial 
was [xi st poned. The following day the trial 
was delayed by a stiff wind, but in the 
evening the balloon was drawn from the 
shed, ballasted and balanced, and was sent 
up a few feet into the air in order that its 


on the shores of I^ike Constance, who had 
come from far and wide to attend the experi- 
mental trials of the Zeppelin balloon* Experts 
from various countries were present, and 
the Kaiser, always keenly interested in the 
problems of aeronauters, was represented by 
several Germans of wide experience. It was 
a day when the fate of an old man of seventy 
was to be decided— a man who, with ex- 
ceeding enthusiasm in his hobby, had put 
^20,000 into the construction of a flying- 
machine that had not yet taken its first flight 
into the air* 

The Balloon Company, which had been 

propelling power might be tested. Night 
then intervened, and the real trial was again 

The next day, July 2nd, proclaimed the 
success of the aerial monster over which so 
many months of mental and mechanical 
labour had been spent. There was a touch 
of romance about it too, for it was not until 
sundown that the trial trip began, and it was 
then that the gray headed inventor, courageous 
and confident of the success of his plans, 
ventured on a voyage in an untried ship into 
the darkening night. A light wind prevailed. 
Punctually at hiljfrpfai&SHYen the balloon was 




taken from the shed, and, held in position by 
several ropes, was allowed to rise about 75ft* 
At eight o'clock it was released, and with 
Count Zeppelin, and four assistants in the 
two cars, began slowly to ascend, 

Zeppelin himself, as we have said, is a man 
of seventy, who for many years has devoted 
his whole time and energy to the study of 
aerial navigation* It has been said that the 
Schwarz balloon, which was described in this 
Magazine in March, 1898, gave him the idea 
of the present air-ship; and those who have 
read that article 
will note many 
points of simi- 
larity in the two 
pieces of mecha- 
nism. Schwarz 
died prematurely, 
and his idea had 
to be carried to 
fruition by his 
friends. The 
balloon, for this 
reason, was, as 
time proved, a 
fai 1 ur e ; but 
Count Zeppelin, 
noting the great 
ingenuity of its 
construction, de- 
cided to improve 
it, upon the lines 
of its lamented 
inventor. The 
Count lives in 
the fine castle of 
Ebersberg, near 
Constance, and 
he looks back on 
a distinguished 
career in the 
Franco- German 

War. He made an extremely daring ride 
at one time through the out pests of the 
enemy, and it is said that the desirability of 
having some quicker and safer means of 
scouting than that 111 use appealed to him 
strongly, and suggested at once an aerial 
machine. He consulted and took the advice 
of various authorities in aerial navigation, 
both of his own country and abroad, and 
finally succeeded in floating, at Stuttgart, the 
company already mentioned, which has so 
successfully built the balloon. 

The best account of the short and exciting 
trip of the Zeppelin balloon has been given by 
Captain- Lieutenant D. von Bethge, Steam- 


ship inspector of Fried richshafen, 


briefly be quoted: "It was an exciting 
moment," he writes, "when the first 
command to let go the cables sounded 
from the raft, and the air-ship, which, 
up till then, had been held by the hands 
of the firemen, labourers, and soldiers, 
rose slowly into the air, and suddenly, at 
the height of 25 metres (82ft-), was released 
and soared upwards. At first the vessel 
descended somewhat before the light easterly 
breeze which was blowing ; but when the 
engines began to work it steamed against 

the wind, then 
turned to right 
and left, and 
afterwards tra- 
velled with the 
wind, turning 
hither and thither 
until it reached 
I m m enstaad." 
The distance tra- 
velled was about 
3j^ miles, 

In the early 
part of the trip 
an accident to 
the steering 
occurred. A 
winch broke and 
hindered the fur- 
ther use of the 
running weight, 
which, as has 
already been 
mentioned, was 
provided in 
order that the 
bow or stern 
might be low- 
ered or raised, 
and the horizontal position regained. Not- 
withstanding the accident, Lieutenant Bethge 
goes on to say, "it was still possible to turn 
the balloon to the left against the wind, but 
as it was impossible, owing to the broken 
cable, to turn to the right, Count Zeppelin 
decided to descend." The descent took 
place seventeen minutes after the ascent 

Count Zeppelin has written an account of 
the trial trip which is of special interest, as it 
comes from one with a full knowledge of all 
the details. "The task," he says, " of bringing 
down the airship took place without a hitch. 
In spite of a rapid and considerable escape 
of gas , followed by but a small sacrifice of 
ballast, the descent tocr; place so gently that 




a descent on to hard ground would seem 
devoid of danger," 

The accident to the running weight made 
it necessary to avert the imminent danger of 
capsizing by stopping and going astern with 
the screws, *' Henceforth," he adds, "the 
whole voyage consisted of alternately going 
ahead , and then astern, with the screws, so as 
to prevent excessive inclination. A further 
reason for this alternate motion arose from 
the circumstance that the air-ship, which at 
first obeyed her helm well to starboard, ran 
more and more to the left, owing, apparently, 
to a curve to larboard, due to the drag of the 
running weight. For this reason also, in order 
to avoid being driven on over the land, it was 
necessary to go 
astern with the 
screws whenever 
the stern pointed 
towards the lake/' 

It seems from 
all accounts that 
the floating capa- 
city and the great 
lateral stability of 
the Zeppelin air- 
ship have been 
proved- The ship 
floated smoothly 
in a horizontal 
position. It also 
obeyed its rudder 
up to the moment 
when the steering 
cable broke. 
Moreover, as 
Count Zeppelin 

himself says, "it has been proved that 
there is no danger of fire in connection 
with the use of the air-ship in ordinary con- 

The rigidity of the balloon— important 
in view of its great length— has also been 
established* It is unfortunate that no exact 
statement of speed was obtainable owing to 
the accident, although the reports of several 
experts stationed at different points, now, at 
the moment of writing, being made out, may 
give an approximate idea of that speed. 
Bethge estimates that the rapidity of flight 
before the wind towards Immenstaad was 
about nine metres (29ft.) per second, from 
which figure the trifling wind-velocity has to 

be deducted. It 
is enough, how- 
ever, to say that a 
dirigible balloon, 
which can main- 
tain a state of 
equilibrium, and 
descend with 
perfect safety to 
its passengers, 
has become 
an established 
fact. Future ex- 
periments* which 
the fortune and 
enthusiasm of 
Count Zeppelin 
will enable him 
to carry out, will 
doubtless bring 
the Zeppelin 
balloon to a grati- 
fying perfection. 




Vol xx»-40L 

by Google 

Original from 

Our Debating Society. 

By Mrs. FfcfcD Maturin. 

ONEY ROAD, Bluebridge, 
Nov, 2nd. — We're mostly 
retired Anglo-Indians here in 
Honey Road, and to draw us 
all more together still, it is 
suggested by the Road that 
we shall have a debating society, the meetings 
to take place at each house in turn, beginning 
with No. \. 

It's been talked of for some time, but I 
never was very keen on it, because Morton 
says it*s sure to lead to quarrelling, and it 
also s between you and me, sounds rather 
slow. However, this morning, while we were 
having breakfast, the paper arrived all about 
it, made out by Mrs. Rateliffe. 

The gist of it all was that it was proposed 
to form a debating society to while away the 
ei'enings and open up useful, instructive, and 

of the tongue of that woman Hare will drive 
me out of this before our lease is up." 

" She is a pig/' said I ; " but you would 
come and live in this cul-de-sac road, Morton, 
and I told you what it would be." 

11 My daughter/' said mamma, with dignity 
(she is stopping with us indefinitely), "told 
you, Morton, that she objected to living in a 
row of jerry-built villas, where if you sneeze 
in No. i No. 14 shakes as if an earthquake 
had taken place." 

" When you sneeze, Mrs, Cartouche, I 
wonder the houses don't come down like a 
pack of cards," said Morton, rudely — not 
even looking up, "As for jerry-built villas, 
as Tve retired on nothing a year, perhaps 
you'll pay for a palace for your daughter to 
live in." 

"Certainly not," said mamma, much 
ruffled, "certainly not, Morton. I am not 
responsible, that I am aware, for your choos- 
ing to get something wrong with your iiver 


amusing subjects for debate ; and appended 
were a list of suggested subjects to be carried 
by vote. 

"That gossip not scandal is a legitimate 

" Honey Road thinks so, anyway," growled 
Morton, from behind his paper. (He was in 
an awful temper that morning.) "The clack 

by LiOOglC 

and being unfit for the command of your 
regiment My poor shoulders," added 
mamma, stirring her tea, " bear many a 
burden ; but your liver, Morton, you will 
kindly hear the burden of yourself, for I not 
only cannot, but will not." 

A row was fast brewing, so I hastily con- 
tinued reading out the debating notice. 




"No. 2," said I, reading it out* "is 'That 
it is the solemn duty of women to dress and 
look well." 1 

" You can put your pen through that 
subject, Hetty, if you please," said Morton, 
hastily, "and say in a foot-note that if it's 
chosen, your husband refuses to allow you to 
join the society — and that's flat." 

" Well, 1 never," said mamma, peering over 
her specs at Morton, and casting a glance of 
commiseration at me, " I never have heard of 
anything so unreasonable.' 

" Oh, haven't you ? " said Morton. " Then 
perhaps you'll pay Hetty's next bills from 
Jay's and Peter Robinson's, and then maybe 
you'll understand— I've got one here now/' 
he added, beginning to work himself up and 
fume as he fumbled in his pocket " Here 
it is ; ^14 for petticoats alone." 

" My daughter," said mamma, sighing, 
" must wear something under her dresses." 

" The something needn't be trimmed with 
real — what's this? — torch-light lace." 

" Torch ■ light ! He means torchon, I 
suppose, Hetty ? " 

"The cheapest of all washing laces," said 
I f "and only two 
rows, and Mrs. 
Leslie has six on 
her petticoats." 

Mamma sighed 
again, " Mr, Leslie, 
my child, -has not 
something the 
matter with his 
liver, brought on 
by obstinacy and 
refusing to wear 
flannel under a pun- 
kali. That will rob 
you, alas, of a good 
deal more than a 
few rows of torchon 
lace on your petti- 
coa ts. It has 
wrecked your life 
and your children's, 
and brought you 
home to England 
to live in this slum, 
Honey Road." 

" The next item," 
said Morton, " is 
fifteen guineas for 
one dress." 

" My daughter," 
said mamma, "must 
wear something over 
her petticoats," 


"When I was a bachelor," said Morton, 
11 1 remember my cousins wearing very nice 
dresses, trimmed alike, of buff alpaca, which 
I distinctly recollect cost two guineas each." 

"My daughter," said mamma, "has a 
different kind of figure to your cousins, 
perhaps, Morton* Hetty has my figure. 
She has inherited it from me, and beauti- 
ful things must be beautifully clothed. Buff 
alpaca may do for some figures, but not 
for Hetty's." 

" The next subject," said I, to avoid 
another row, " is : * That we learn more from 
our children than they learn from us, 1 And 
there's a foot-note to say that it is universally 
proposed that this subject shall form the 
first debate," 

"I'll write a paper on that question," said 
Morton, getting up, while the ceiling over- 
head (the floor of the school -room) shook 
with a little difference of opinion the children 
were having before they started for school ; 
"that's about the only sensible thing Mrs. 
Ratcliffe has suggested for debate. And I'd 
dearly like to open the debate by caning 
every blooming boy in Honey Road who 

makes my life a 
burden to me." And 
Morton, much to 
mamma's and my 
relief, took his hat 
and umbrella from 
the hall and walked 
off to London for 
the day. 

" I don't know 
what's come over 
Morton, mamma," 
said I T as he slam- 
med the door and 
the house shook. 

" It is trying for 
you, my child," said 
mamma, "but I 
have heard that 
complaints of the 
liver take all kinds 
of strange and un- 
pleasant forms." 

11 Just to save 
seven - and - six to 
have the cistern 
cleaned out, he 
goes and cleans it 
himself by getting 
bodily into it 
with one of our 
best twill sheets, 
washed the dog in 


Original from 



it, and then went off to town, forgetting to 
let the water run off, or tell us, or anything, 
and we used it three days and never knew." 

"Now!" cried mamma, rising from her 
chair in horror, " I know why my early 
morning tea has tasted of dog soap." 

"Yes," said I, "that was it" 

" Alas, that I should have such a son-irt- 
law," cried mamma. " This comes of men 
having nothing on earth to do but to get 
into mischief. And if that dog is sickening 
for hydrophobia or anything (and he has 
been very queer a long time, mopy and 
snappy) we shall all get it. The poison will 
have entered our blood." 

" Perhaps," I suggested, feeling most 
uncomfortable, " Morton is in for hydro- 
phobia. His tempers lately have been 

" More than likely," said mamma, who 
always looks on the gloomy side of every- 
thing, "and I shall keep a sharp look-out on 
him, Hetty, and the first time he refuses 
water " 

"But he always refuses it, mamma." 

"Well, Hetty, watch him. Nothing will 
surprise me." 

Nov. 6th. — I am writing in bed. Our first 
debate took place last night, and if it's a 
specimen of what all the oth